The Last of Albus
by DuShuZhi
Summary: COMPLETETakes place after HBP. Dumbledore had a family once, what's left of it now and why did he leave it behind? How will this affect Harry and the others? Follows all characters as they all work toward their own goals, coming together and falling apart
1. Prologue

A short, healthy looking girl of twenty-three stood at the back of the long line of customers waiting to check their bags. She absentmindedly twirled one long lock of brown hair around her fingers as she impatiently tapped one foot. This was her first time flying out of the country and now she was more nervous then she had been when she first discovered she'd be making the trip. London sounded so far away from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. She wondered if the people living there had even heard of her hometown. Most likely not, she thought to herself as she dropped her heavy shoulder bag to stretch.

The airport seemed hot and stuffy, even for Atlanta in June. The place was a sea of people in different shapes and sizes. A child off to the girl's right began crying and the girl checked her watch for the hundredth time. If the line didn't start moving she was going to miss her flight. If only the electronic checkers were working, the girl whined inside her head, but the checkers had been out of order for the last week. Suddenly, as if in response to her silent plea, a loud booming voice called out over the airport's large speakers.

"Electronic checking stations for Northwest airlines have just been brought back online," the voice stated calmly, "We are sorry for the inconvenience and we thank you for your patience. Have a nice day."

A strange sort of silence settled over the five long lines of people. Eyes darted to and fro, each watching and waiting. Then all hell broke lose. Mothers were dragging their children behind them, husbands were pushing their wives and within seconds the lines were gone leaving the short girl with long brown hair with a clear path to the human checkers standing only fifteen or so feet in front of her.

With a small sigh she hoisted up her shoulder bag and lifted her small suitcase. She was nervous about the trip but excited too. The thought of taking in all of the sights and sounds of London was an attractive one. It's too bad the circumstances aren't better, she thought to herself sadly. The reading of a will is never a happy event and not something one usually looks forward to. This girl surely wasn't looking forward to it, even if it was for some long lost relative she'd never met.

"Driver's license please," the middle-aged man behind the counter requested cheerfully, most likely happier than anyone that the electronic checkers were working once again.

The young girl pulled out her license and handed it to the man. He typed a few things into the computer sitting to his left and within minutes he was handing her a boarding pass. She took the pass and slowly stepped away from the counter.

"Excuse me!" the man behind the counter suddenly called out, "Miss Dumbledore, you forgot your license!"

The girl turned around and walked swiftly toward the counter. She smiled at the man as he passed her license. "Thanks," she replied happily, "I'd forget my own head if it wasn't held on with chewing gum and Popsicle sticks." The man chuckled softly and waved to her as she left once again.

Later that night, as the man lay in bed, he recounted the story to his wife, who questioned him as to why he had remembered such a small thing. After all, people forget their licenses all the time. But it wasn't what she had forgotten that stuck in his memory, it was her eyes, they had been such a bright blue that he could almost swear they had twinkled.

**dSz**

**dSz**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story just popped into my head while I was working. I'm not quite sure where it's going yet but it will definitely be much lighter than my other series. Most of the story will be from Harry's point of view.**


	2. Strength in Family

_Voices keep me small  
And tongue-tied to the wall  
Breast-fed by the moon,  
I've grown up much too soon_

_**dSz**  
_

Harry let out a loud sigh and picked at the small pile of mashed potatoes sitting on the plate in front of him. His aunt made a disapproving clicking noise in the back of her throat but Harry's attention remained focused on the flowered table cloth. Petunia Dursley and her husband Vernon shared a look while Dudley remained completely silent. Dudley Dursley may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he could tell that something was wrong with his cousin, something worse than being picked on or bullied, something much worse.

"Eat your dinner Harry, don't just pick at it," Aunt Petunia urged snappishly. Harry nodded in reply and shoveled a small portion of warm potatoes into his mouth.

It had been a week since the end of Harry's sixth year. A week spent in the company of his only remaining family, a family that has never cared for him. But something was different this summer. When his aunt and uncle had met him at the train station they wore solemn expressions on their faces. They had spoken quietly with Arthur and Molly Weasley before leaving the station for home. Harry wasn't sure what had been said, but he knew the subject had been himself…and most likely Dumbledore.

Dumbledore. Even thinking the name seemed to hurt, causing Harry to flinch slightly. The family sitting around the table noticed his odd reaction but no one spoke. Dudley opened his mouth to ask Harry what was wrong but his mother shook her head and mouthed the word "no". Something was definitely different, Dudley knew this for certain, but he didn't know why.

He knew that his parents brought Harry home a week ago and began treating him differently then they did the year before. The first thing Dudley noted was that his mom and dad no longer called his cousin "Potter", instead they called him Harry. His mother also began bugging his cousin to eat more, complaining that he seemed unhealthy and scrawny. By themselves none of these things seemed too strange in Dudley's eyes. He was older now and much more mature. A boy his age needs to start thinking about his future, not the many ways he can torture his cousin, or at least that's what his girlfriend Samantha had said. Samantha lectured Dudley on many different topics, her favorite being Dudley's need to be more sensitive.

Harry let out another loud sigh and Uncle Vernon eyed him warily. He still couldn't bring himself to trust the boy completely, he is a wizard after all, but even Vernon's normally frigid heart could sense the boy's pain and despair.

"May I be excused please?" Harry asked politely as he sat up straight in his chair.

"But you've hardly…"

"Now, now Petunia dear, if the boy's not hungry then he's not hungry," interrupted Vernon much to Harry's surprise. "Run along Harry."

"Thank you," Harry replied quietly before lifting his napkin from his lap and placing it on the table.

Hushed whispers could be heard from the kitchen as he slowly trudged up the stairs to his room. As he closed the door behind him he could hear someone making their way up the stairs. It sounded like someone heavy, possibly Dudley. Harry thought about locking the door but decided against it, somewhat curious regarding Dudley's intentions.

There was a soft knocking on the door before it opened a crack. "Harry, can I talk to you?"

"About what?" Harry questioned as he opened the door and motioned toward the bed. The old mattress groaned softly as Dudley sat down upon it.

Not as much as it should have though, Harry noticed thoughtfully. He studied his cousin for a moment while Dudley looked around the room, a curious expression on his face. Dudley had lost weight. Harry wasn't sure when this happened but wasn't surprised that he hadn't noticed until now. There were more important things on his mind at the moment.

"You've lost weight," Harry blurted out without thinking.

Dudley nodded proudly. "I was wondering if you'd notice. Samantha's had me on a diet all year long. At first I thought I'd go mad from it but after a few weeks I started to notice a difference so I just kept going with it. I doubt I'll ever be as thin as you but I wouldn't mind losing another fifty or so."

"Who would want to be as thin as me," Harry commented as he turned to look at his reflection in the mirror, "I'm horribly scrawny."

"No you're not," Dudley stated adamantly, "We're just shaped different is all. I suppose it has to do with our parents…I'm sorry, that was rude of me."

Harry gave Dudley a confused look. "I don't mind if you mention my parents. And who's Samantha?"

"Girlfriend," Dudley responded sheepishly as he nervously tugged at a frayed corner of the blanket covering the small mattress.

A few seconds of silence passed before there was a soft tapping at the window. A large brown owl waited outside, a small white envelope tied around its foot. Dudley's eyes widened with interest as Harry pulled out his wand. He kept the wand trained on the owl and opened the window. The brown bird gave him an anxious look before landing on the small desk that was sitting against the wall near the bed. Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair but his wand remained fixed on the large owl.

"Is that a letter?" Dudley asked curiously.

"Yeah, but I don't know if I should take it or not. It could be a portkey or some other kind of trap."

The owl held out its foot expectantly and let out an annoyed hoot. When neither Harry nor Dudley moved to take the letter it became even more agitated. After another minute it became even angrier and began gnawing at the string holding the envelope in place. In seconds it had the envelope loose and had flown out the window.

"Is there a name on it?" Dudley questioned as he leaned forward to get a better look.

Harry walked to the desk and peered down at the small white envelope. There was a return address. "It's from Hogwarts," Harry stated, "or at least that's what it says."

"That's your school isn't it?" Dudley asked as he turned his attention from the envelope to Harry. "What's it like there?"

The question caught Harry by surprise. Not once had the Dursleys shown any interest in his time spent away from Privet Drive, other than making sure that none of the "freaks" came around to cause trouble. He wondered why Dudley was suddenly curious about Hogwarts. Could it be some kind of trick? Would Dudley somehow use the information against him? But how could he, what would he have to gain?

"Hogwarts is my home," Harry stated as he sat down next to his cousin, "It's the most magical place in the world. There's talking portraits, ghosts, centaurs, a giant squid..."

"Ghosts!" Dudley questioned loudly.

"Not scary ones," Harry replied quickly, "There's four houses; Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Slytherin. I'm in Gryffindor house."

"What's the difference between them and how do you know which one you should be in?"

This was going to take awhile, Harry thought to himself. "Ravenclaw is for really intelligent people who like to study..."

"I wouldn't be in that house then," Dudley chuckled.

"Probably not," Harry commented, his lips curling up in a small smile. Dudley noticed it wasn't a large smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. It was a start.

"What about the others?"

"Well, Hufflepuff is for hard-working, trustworthy children. Gryffindor is for the brave and courageous and Slytherin is for…" Harry's voice trailed off as he tried to think of a way to describe Slytherin house.

"It's for sneaky people," Dudley supplied, "Like snakes, right?"

"Pretty much," Harry ground out, images of Snape, Malfoy and Riddle flitting through his mind.

"I bet you're in Gryffindor," Dudley commented offhandedly.

"Why would you think that?"

"Cause you're into saving people and stuff, right?" Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering why Dudley would think something like that. "I mean, you did save me from that Dementor thing."

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry responded sadly. "I haven't been doing to well with the whole saving people thing though."

"Is that why you've been depressed ever since you came back from school?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know what you're…"

"O come off it Harry," Dudley interrupted quickly, "We may not be close but even I can tell that something's really bothering you and you should talk to someone. Samantha says it's not good to bottle everything up inside."

The young wizard's breath suddenly caught in his throat. Since Dumbledore's death so many people had told him he should talk to someone about it. Hermione and Ron wrote to him everyday, begging him to speak his feelings. Even Remus stopped by one evening asking to talk. But somehow all of those requests didn't seem as powerful as Dudley's simple advice. How dare his cousin, who had never cared at all for him, suddenly decide that he should spill his guts. Harry decided he would. After all, Dudley had asked for it.

"You want to hear all about it," Harry spat angrily, "You and your parents have never cared one bit about my life at Hogwarts and now you're telling me I should talk to someone. Well let me tell you exactly what's been going on in my life."

Harry began to explain and soon Dudley was completely wrapped up in Harry's tales of mountain trolls and gigantic chess sets. The description of the basilisk frightened him and when Harry explained how he'd defeated the gigantic snake and the ghostly memory of Tom Riddle, Dudley was completely amazed. He wanted to stand up and cheer when Harry spoke of the escape of the wrongly convicted Sirius Black and he wanted to cry when Harry told the story of Black's death.

Dudley and Harry sat there for hours as Harry explained everything about his life in the wizarding world. From Quidditch to Gringott's, from Hogsmeade to Diagon Alley, Harry explained it all. Once in awhile Dudley would interrupt to ask a question, but for the most part he remained silent, listening intently to every explanation and description that came out of Harry's mouth. When Harry began describing his sixth year at Hogwarts his tone began to change.

"Snape killed Dumbledore," Harry whispered sadly. His voice became so small that Dudley had to lean closer in order to hear the words.

"Dumbledore was important to you, wasn't he?" Dudley asked.

"He was like a father to me," Harry choked out, the words catching in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Dudley replied solemnly and he really did mean it. He wrapped a large arm around Harry's small shoulders in a brotherly sort of gesture.

The small, black-haired boy turned toward his large cousin and cried into his shoulder. Dudley noticed once again just how tiny Harry was compared to himself. Kind of like a little brother, he thought as he softly patted Harry's back. Right then and there Dudley decided that he would act as Harry's big brother. That's what Harry really needed at the moment. He may have tons of friends, Dudley thought to himself, but he needs family.

Petunia Dursley silently closed the door to Harry's room. Her lips formed into a sad smile at the thought of her little boy growing up. It seemed both boys were growing up, although one more quickly than the other. She let out a small sigh as she entered her own bedroom.

The sound of Vernon snoring filled the room but she ignored it as she moved to the desk sitting in the corner. In the top left drawer was a small, worn photo of a young girl with red hair and bright green eyes. Petunia marveled at the way the girl's hair moved as the wind swept through it. It was a magical photo, the only one she had. She always kept it hidden since she knew that Vernon would destroy it if he found it.

"Your boy's growing up," she whispered as she ran a finger down the side of the photograph, "and you would be so proud of him." Petunia watched the girl for a few seconds longer before hiding the photo away once more. Then she climbed into bed and gave her sleeping husband a peck on the cheek before going to sleep. She slept with a smile, happy in the knowledge that her family was safe and sound.

Down the hall Dudley lay awake in his bed. His eyes were wide and he stared at the ceiling with a worried expression on his face. The things Harry had told him had truly frightened him. How could he hope to help protect Harry against people using magic?

In the smallest bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive, Harry Potter was sleeping. His slumber was not pleasant, instead it was plagued by nightmares and dreams of mistakes that could not be taken back. Eventually he fell into a much deeper sleep, one that was dreamless and peaceful.

As the night continued on toward the morning, a small white envelope lay on Harry Potter's desk. It glowed softly with an ethereal light. The light became stronger as the hours passed, guaranteeing that it would not stay forgotten for long.

Many miles away from Surrey, in the small wizarding village of Hogsmeade, the owner of the Hog's Head was closing up for the night. He shooed the last of the customers out the door and magically sealed the curtains. As he made his way upstairs to his small apartment above the bar, his appearance began to change. By the time he was sitting comfortably on his favorite overstuffed orange sofa he no longer looked anything like the man who had been serving drinks downstairs only fifteen minutes before.

A long, white beard hung down to his waist. His fingers were longer and his eyes were now a bright blue instead of brown. With a sigh he pulled a pair of half-moon spectacles out of the front pocket of his purple robe and carefully slipped them over his nose. A large yawn escaped him as he glanced at the clock above the fireplace.

It was late but he knew that he could not let himself sleep. Not yet at least. There was much to do in preparation for the houseguest that would be arriving the next day. He fingered his wand nervously as he thought about his last living relative. She could turn out to be a great help to the wizarding world or she might decide not to have anything to do with magic just to spite the family who had ignored her for so long.

The old man's brow furrowed slightly as he rose from the sofa to make himself a cup of tea. It was times like these that he wished his brother was still with him.


	3. Useful Information

_I see it around me, I see it in everything.  
I could be so much more than this.  
I said my goodbye's this is my sundown.  
I'm gonna be so much more than this._

Rowena Dumbledore stared out the darkened window as the plane made its way towards London. Rowena, what an odd name? Ever since Rowena was small that was always the reaction she got when she introduced herself. When she had been young she had hated the name due to the silly little nicknames the other children would come up with, Roweiner being the worst. But as Rowena got older she began to like her name and she didn't mind the nicknames, instead she would just laugh.

A unique name for a unique girl, that's what Rowena's mother had always said. Rowena's grandmother, on the other hand, hated the name. She said it was odd, just like Rowena and just like Rowena's grandfather. Rowena's grandmother always complained about how much Rowena resembled her grandfather in looks and personality, like the way her blue eyes always twinkled no matter how dim the light or the way others would come to Rowena to ask for advice. It was obvious the girl was wise beyond her years and her grandmother hated that. Hated it because it reminded her of him, it reminded her of Albus.

It was Albus who had abandoned her, Albus who had forced her to move to the U.S. and most importantly, Albus who had stolen her son. Rowena still didn't know what had really happened to her father, only that her grandfather had asked for his help and he had died while in England. Her mother never liked to speak of it and even mentioning it usually brought tears to her eyes. Then, when Rowena was only twelve years old, she had passed on to join her husband, leaving Rowena alone with her grandmother.

But grandmother is dead now, Rowena thought to herself, and now I'm all alone. She absentmindedly played with the white envelope in her lap and remembered back to the day the envelope had shown up in the mail. It was a request to come to London for the reading of her grandfather's will. Surprisingly enough, the request had not come from any lawyer, but from her great-uncle Aberforth, a relative she had not even known existed.

It was a simple request with no details or explanations. The letter reminded her of the two letters she had received from her grandfather, one when she was six and the other when she was twelve, just after her mother had passed away. Neither of those letters had a return address so Rowena had no way to reply and there was no mention as to where her grandfather lived. The first letter had been a short message wishing Rowena a happy birthday; the second letter had a sympathetic message regarding the death of Rowena's mother. A letter had also come for her grandmother but the old woman had never shared the contents with anyone and Rowena suspected that the letter was quickly tossed into the fireplace shortly after it was opened.

Now, here Rowena was, flying across the ocean to meet her last living relative. The whole situation was strange and stressful. So much so that Rowena still hadn't wrapped her mind around all that had happened. Her co-workers had urged her not to make the trip. Even the children who came to her for counseling at the group home where she worked had begged her not to leave. There had been reports of strange happenings in England; attacks, disappearances and even explosions. Rowena had been adamant about going but she had to admit that she was nervous. In the end her desire for family had overpowered her fear.

"Visiting family in England?" the little old lady sitting next to her asked curiously.

Rowena nodded in reply. "My great-uncle, it'll be the first time we've met."

"How nice!" the woman exclaimed, clapping her hands in front of her, "A family reunion?"

"No, my grandfather died and I need to be there for the reading of his will." Immediately the woman's smile disappeared and she gripped Rowena's hand in a supportive gesture.

"I'm so sorry dear. Were the two of you quite close?"

Rowena paused to think for a moment and then shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid I never met him either. I got a few letters from him when I was younger but he never came to visit or anything. I don't think he and my grandmother got along very well."

The woman made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat. "That's just awful. It's a terrible thing when children suffer because their parents, or in this case, grandparents are too pigheaded to get along."

"My grandmother was more then pigheaded," Rowena replied with a chuckle, "She was a mean old witch of a woman. I loved her anyway though."

"Well, you know what they say," the old woman responded in amusement, "you can't pick your family and if you could, you probably wouldn't. O, that was quite nasty of me, wasn't it?"

Rowena shook her head. "A lot of people probably feel that way. My grandma was mean but she took care of me so she wasn't all bad. So why are you going to London?"

The little old woman's face took on a strange expression for a moment, as if she was at a loss as to what she should say. "I'm meeting someone there," she stammered. Rowena suddenly had a strong feeling that there was something odd about the woman. She looked normal enough, curly gray hair, soft brown eyes, wrinkled skin, but every once in awhile it was as if her face didn't look like it fit her.

"Why don't you get some sleep dear," the old woman suggested, "Or you'll be dead on your feet by the time we reach London."

"I suppose you're right," Rowena replied while stretching her arms up above her head, "I don't know if I can sleep though. I'm a little nervous."

The old woman nodded her head in understanding. "I suppose you would be. Is your uncle picking you up at the airport then?"

Rowena shook her head and pulled the letter from the envelope. "It says here that someone named Remus Lupin will be picking me up. I think he must be a friend of my grandfather, but I never heard my grandma or my mother mention him."

"Lupin…hmmm…what an odd name," the old woman commented thoughtfully.

"That's what I thought too. This guy I work with says that it means wolf or something like that. I hope he's not a werewolf." Rowena smiled as the little old lady chuckled loudly, earning quite a few "shhh's" from the other passengers.

"A werewolf in London," the woman replied through her laughter, "It reminds me of that muggle movie."

Rowena stopped laughing. "What was that?" She questioned curiously.

The little old woman glanced around nervously. "I said it reminds me of a movie." There was a moment of silence as Rowena studied the woman. She was sure the woman had said something strange but she hadn't caught the word.

"I think I'll take a nap now," Rowena stated as she eyed the woman suspiciously.

"You do that dear," the woman stammered, "I think I'll do the same."

Across the sea, at a well-known school for young witches and wizards, Remus Lupin was pacing back and forth across the floor of Dumbledore's office. Luckily the office was unoccupied at the moment so no one was around to be annoyed by his behavior, except for the portraits of course. One portrait in particular, the most recent portrait to be exact, was watching Remus with a bemused expression on his bearded face.

Remus stopped to glare at the painting of the old wizard. "Why pick me for something like this? You know how nervous I get around large groups of people and to trust me with something so important….arrgh!" Remus threw his hands up in anger as the image of Dumbledore remained completely silent.

The image of Dumbledore hadn't made a sound since it suddenly flickered into existence the night that the headmaster had died. It also never seemed to sleep; instead it looked upon those in the office with familiar twinkling blue eyes. It's constant quiet stare became so aggravating that the deputy headmistress, Minerva McGonnagal, refused to stay in the office and instead brought any paperwork that needed to be looked through down to her own office.

No new headmaster or headmistress sat in Dumbledore's chair. Old laws were in place for the choosing of the new head. Laws so old that even the Minister of Magic himself could not override them. That was something that all of the professors were quite happy with. No one wanted to see some Ministry politician running Hogwarts. But eventually someone would have to sit behind that desk and take care of the school.

"Hogwarts will reopen next year," Remus stated aloud, causing the portraits to nod in agreement and Dumbledore's amused smile to become even wider. "We just need to find a new headmaster or headmistress and they can hire the new professors we need and…and…"

Remus shook his head and continued to pace. There was one big problem with this plan; no one seemed to know how a new headmaster was chosen. Apparently it was a secret that was only passed from head to head; even the professors were kept completely in the dark. What made this problem even more difficult to solve was the fact that the last headmaster died and his portrait seemed to be giving everyone the silent treatment. How could anyone be chosen if Dumbledore refused to tell them what needed to be done?

At the moment, Remus had an even bigger problem to worry about though and he didn't even like thinking about this one. Dumbledore has a granddaughter. "A granddaughter," Remus muttered to himself as he stopped in front of Dumbledore's portrait once again. "Why didn't you tell anyone before? No, wait, I can understand why you didn't tell anyone, but why tell anyone now? She'll be in even more danger now, won't she? Argh, say something you old coot!"

Remus slapped a hand over his mouth. Never in his life had he ever talked to the headmaster in such a way. He had always respected the man more than any other person in his life. A blush of embarrassment tinted his cheeks as he mumbled an apology and turned away from the painting.

It wasn't the headmaster that he was really angry with; it was another wizard that had caused this responsibility to be thrown on his shoulders. It was that wizard who was responsible for everything that had happened. It was that wizard who had betrayed everyone's trust.

"Damn you Snape!" Remus growled as he slammed a fist down on Dumbledore's old wooden desk. Behind him Dumbledore's smile faltered for a moment, but the twinkle in his blue eyes became even more pronounced.

The wizard that Remus Lupin was damning and most of the wizarding world would give anything to see thrown in Azkaban was damning his own luck as he knelt in front of his master. Severus Snape silently waited until his master commanded him to rise. His insides rolled as Nagini slithered past him and stopped in front of her master.

"Rise Severus," the Dark Lord hissed. Severus did his best not to shiver as he pulled himself up onto his feet. "You have always been my most faithful follower. Others may have questioned, but I have always known. Do you regret your days as a spy are now over?"

"Of course milord," Snape answered causing the Death Eaters to gasp, "But only because I am no longer able to provide you with information and I am afraid that I will not be as valuable to our cause."

The Dark Lord nodded in agreement. "This is true Severus, but do not think I will toss you aside. You have destroyed one of the largest obstacles in my path to victory and although I have lost one of my best spies, I have gained a full-time Potions Master. I'm sure you will not disappoint me in your new duties."

"Of course milord," Severus replied, "I live to serve you in any way I am able."

"Very good," said the Dark Lord, "I will have a list of potions for you by the end of the week. You may go now." Severus made no move to leave and the Dark Lord looked at him curiously. "Is there something you'd like to say Severus?"

"If I may milord, I do have one bit of information that I think you might find valuable. It is concerning Dumbledore and his…family."

For a split-second Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise. "Family?" he questioned, "Dumbledore has no family."

"Actually milord, he does. A brother named Aberforth…"

"I have heard of Albus' brother," Voldemort interrupted in a bored tone, "but he has not been seen for years and from what information I have gathered I doubt he would be much of a threat to me."

"Of course not milord, but the headmaster also has a…granddaughter."

"A granddaughter!" the Dark Lord exclaimed. The group of Death Eaters surrounding Severus wore shocked expressions behind their masks. "That is impossible. The old man's son has been dead for years, killed by my own wand."

"This is true milord," Severus stated slowly, "but he had a wife in the United States and she was pregnant when he returned to fight alongside his father."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And why wasn't this information brought to my attention sooner?"

The most important thing about being a spy is knowing how to lie and no one was better at this then Severus Snape. He had always known the best way to lie. Keep it short, keep it simple and keep it plausible. "I was bound by a Wizard's Oath never to reveal the secret until a set number of days after the headmaster's death. The old man never told me how many days but this morning I realized the oath had finally lifted."

The Dark Lord appeared to be thinking on what Severus had said but Severus could tell Voldemort didn't actually believe his explanation. In the end it wouldn't matter though, valuable information is valuable information and the information Severus had just given to the Dark Lord was very valuable indeed.

"So it seems the old fool didn't trust you as much as you thought, did he Severus?"

"It appears so milord."

"I always knew he was intelligent and powerful," the Dark Lord stated thoughtfully, "but I knew his blind trust in others would be his downfall. It is unfortunate that young Draco could not fulfill the duty himself, but I suppose he did well for his age. Step forward Draco."

At his command Draco Malfoy, the youngest and newest Death Eater stepped away from the rest of the group and stood next to Severus. He carried himself with an air of confidence, reminding Severus of a younger version of Lucius. Draco bowed and then stood straight, not a hint of fear showing in his eyes.

"Severus, I am charging you with the task of finishing Draco's education. Obviously he cannot return to Hogwarts and if he is to follow in his father's footsteps he will need to be trained."

"Of course milord, I will be happy to teach Draco everything he will need to know in order to serve you best," Severus replied calmly. Inside his mind he was silently cursing the young wizard standing next to him. The Malfoy brat could ruin all of his well thought out plans.

The Dark Lord grinned, showing his pointed white teeth and instantly the potions master knew that there was a hidden agenda to Voldemort's request. While Severus would be training Draco, Draco would be watching Severus and no doubt reporting back to the Dark Lord if Severus did anything the least bit suspicious.

"Now tell me more about the last of the Dumbledore family."

"The headmaster only told me of her existence and that she resides in America with her mother and grandmother," Severus stated truthfully.

"Is she a witch?"

"I do not know milord."

Voldemort turned away from the group as he considered the situation. A moment later he spun around and addressed the entire group. "I want the girl found and brought to me. She shall not be harmed in any way."

"If I may ask milord, what are your intentions for the girl?" Severus asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

"Dumbledore's have always been powerful," The Dark Lord explained, "If I could turn her to my cause…"

"But how?" Bellatrix blurted out without thinking, "She's a Dumbledore."

"I have a plan my dear Bella," Voldemort hissed as his eyes met Snape's, "and I may have something she would be very interested in."

Damn you Snape, Severus cursed silently to himself.


	4. Weight

_With one hand high, you'll show them your progress.  
You'll take your time, but no one cares.  
No one cares. _

I need you to show me the way from crazy.  
I wanna be so much more than this.  
With one hand high, you'll show them your progress.  
You'll take your time, but no one cares.

Harry woke the next morning feeling better than he had in a long time. He felt lighter as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The only explanation he could come up with was that his late night conversation with Dudley had allowed him to release some of the emotions that he'd kept bottled up inside since Dumbledore's death.

The bright rays of the morning sun warmed him as he stretched in front of the window. A smile suddenly appeared on his lips. The expression was somewhat foreign to Harry but it made him feel good. His smile widened as he peered up at the clear blue sky.

That snake-faced bastard won't beat me, he thought to himself as his smile transformed into a smirk. Harry knew that Voldemort was out there somewhere, most likely celebrating his recent victory and plotting his next attack, but Voldemort couldn't take away moments like these.

"You can plot and plan all you like," Harry whispered as he opened the window to let in the cool morning breeze, "but you can't take this away from me."

Harry started in surprise as he noticed a soft white glow emanating from the envelope on his desk. It was the letter he had received the night before, the letter from Hogwarts. He carefully picked it up and ran a finger over the return address. A strange feeling bubbled up inside him, urging him to open the envelope. Without a second thought he ripped it open and pulled out the small piece of parchment inside.

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**I am sure you are surprised to receive this letter from me, considering that I am no longer walking the world of the living. Do not mourn for me my dear boy. As I write these words I can see the many wrinkles in my hands, each of them holds a memory, each of them holds a story all its own, but I have seen much and done much and in all honesty, I will welcome a nice long rest.**

**The only thing I fear now is that I have left so many things undone, many of them in regards to you Harry. I have never been there as I should have been. My only excuse is that I am an old, foolish wizard who looks too much at the big picture and not enough at the small. If I remember correctly there is a muggle saying about not seeing the forest for the trees, unfortunately I have looked upon the forest and ignored the trees entirely.**

**But there can be no forest without trees. After all these years and all I have been through, I have finally come to understand the importance of the trees. Even the smallest tree, with the right care, can grow into the mightiest oak. But when forgotten and uncared for, it can become twisted and stunted, ever reaching for the sun yet doomed to never stretch its branches under the warm glow.**

**In you Harry, I see a child who has grown straight and tall. A small tree that stands as strong as the largest and oldest oak. I wish I could take some credit for the man you are fast becoming, but unfortunately I must admit to myself that I had no hand in it. I was only a bystander who attempted to help you on your way. I do appreciate the trust you gave to me and the way you allowed me to witness your triumphs and defeats. The trust and loyalty you have shown to me will always be the greatest and most wonderful gift I could ever wish for in my wildest dreams.**

**I have faith in you Harry. In your first year, when Voldemort offered you the family you'd always desired in exchange for the stone and you refused, I knew then and there that you will always make the right choices, even if they are difficult and painful. I do have one last favor to ask of you which I know is rude considering all you have done for me, but this task is of the most importance and it has nothing to do with Hogwarts, the wizarding world or Voldemort, this is much more personal.**

Harry stopped there for a moment, his breath catching in his throat as he reread the paragraph. Everything that Dumbledore had ever requested of Harry had been regarding the war with Voldemort. Never had Dumbledore requested Harry to do something for him personally. Hesitantly Harry turned the parchment and continued to read.

**This will come as a shock to you Harry, but I have a family. I believe I mentioned my brother Aberforth to you once or twice, but I also have another living relative, just one other. I will not go into detail here since my brother can give you a fairly detailed explanation of what happened but I will say that her name is Rowena and she is my granddaughter.**

**She is currently living in America and I have requested that she be sent for soon after my death. I have left her care in the hands of someone I trust but her safety and tutelage is another matter. Rowena does not know she is a witch and she knows nothing of magic. I need someone to keep her safe and teach her what she needs to know. I am hoping that you will be that someone Harry for you are the only person in the world that I trust with such an important task.**

Harry's breath was coming in short gasps as he dropped the letter onto the desk. What was Dumbledore thinking? He wasn't ready to teach anyone anything. Great Merlin, he hadn't even finished school himself and at the end of last year he said he wasn't going back. Harry and his friends had made the decision to search for the remaining horcruxes, wasn't that more important than taking care of Dumbledore's granddaughter? Harry didn't know what to think so he picked up the letter and continued to read.

**I have no doubt that this will take up a considerable amount of your time and you will need to stay somewhere safe. That is why I have made arrangements for you to have private tutoring sessions with all of your Professors at Hogwarts beginning after your required two week stay with the Dursleys. I left a special schedule with Minerva that will leave you more than enough time to complete your schoolwork and take care of this very special mission. The decision is yours. If you accept then you may leave for Hogwarts after your two weeks with the Dursleys has passed. The envelope that came with this letter is a portkey and you only need to say "Licorice Snap" to activate it.**

**Whatever you decide Harry, please know that I am proud of you. You have always exceeded my expectations. More importantly than that, I have always considered you to be like a son to me. When I found out what you said to the Minister, that you were "Dumbledore's man through and through", it meant more to me than all of the galleons in Gringotts and all the Lemon Drops in the world.**

**Just remember Harry, to the organized mind…**

"…death is but the next great adventure," Harry read aloud, the words choking him slightly. "Your friend in life and the great beyond, Albus Dumbledore."

That was the last straw. Harry felt the great weight drop down upon his shoulders once again and this time he knew that just talking to someone about it wasn't going to help. This time the weight was his to carry. The corners of his mouth turned up in a grim smile as he moved back to the window and stood straight and tall. It hadn't taken him long to make his decision. He wouldn't let the weight crush him, he would carry it proudly.

Dudley Dursley sat at his own desk in his own room. A notebook sat in front of him and a fancy ballpoint pen was held in his plump, but quickly thinning, fingers. The pen was a gift his father had given him many years ago but this was the first time he had picked it up. Dudley wasn't the type to usually write letters; actually he wasn't the type to usually write much of anything at all. But last night, after his conversation with Harry, he had come to a decision which was no small feat for a boy whose biggest decisions usually involved what to eat for dinner and what candy to buy from the store down the street.

With a small sigh he began to write, slowly at first but faster as more and more words began to form in his mind. He continued to write until his fingers began to cramp and even then he wrote some more. Dudley had used only one page of notebook paper by the time he was done but he was confident that on that one page he had adequately described his dilemma, now he could only hope that the one who received it would be willing and able to help.

Once he finished he immediately folded the letter and carefully placed it inside a long white envelope. After writing his name in the corner and his return address, he wrote only a first name in the middle, no address or last name because he had no idea what they were.

Dudley slowly opened his bedroom door and peeked down the hall. His father had already left for work and he could hear someone moving around in the bathroom. A few minutes later the bathroom door opened and his mother stepped out.

"Psst," Dudley whispered quietly, "Mom." Petunia Dursley gave her son a questioning look, confused as to why the usually boisterous and loud boy was being so secretive.

"What is it Dudley?" Petunia whispered questioningly.

"Where's Harry?"

Well, this is quite odd, Petunia thought to herself. She hoped that Dudley wasn't planning some prank on her poor nephew. A frown formed on her lips and her brow creased in concern. "What are you planning? Not a prank I hope. That poor boy has been…"

Dudley rolled his eyes and quickly interrupted his mother's ranting. "No, I'm not planning any kind of prank. I need to send a letter to one of his friends and I need to use Hedwig."

"Harry's owl?" Petunia asked in a surprised tone, "Why ever for?"

"Just…I need to," Dudley explained pleadingly, "Please just trust me on this."

Petunia considered her son's odd request for a moment before nodding in reply. "Harry is down in the kitchen having breakfast. I told him he couldn't leave the table until he finished everything on his plate." Petunia's expression turned grim. "It's only a bit of toast but it should take him quite awhile."

"Thanks Mom," Dudley whispered before heading towards Harry's bedroom.

Dudley opened the bedroom door as quietly as he could and silently hoped that Hedwig was in her cage. Hopefully she would be willing to do this favor for him. It was for Harry after all and Dudley knew that Hedwig was more than just a regular owl. She would understand, Dudley was sure of it.

"Hey Hedwig." Dudley greeted the bird hesitantly. "I need you to deliver this letter for me."

Hedwig cocked her head to the side and gave Dudley a questioning look. The big human child that lived with her master had never spoken to her before and even though the big child was treating her master better than usual this summer, it didn't erase all of the memories Hedwig had of past summers spent with the Dursleys.

"It's for Harry," Dudley continued, "I need to help Harry and I know that Harry's friends can tell me how. I don't know the address but I'm sure you've delivered letters to them before."

The owl eyed the envelope in Dudley's hand and considered his request. The boy did say it was for her master and she knew that her master did require help. Her master had been so sullen and serious lately. Hedwig always prided herself on her intimate connection with her master but the connection was hard on her because she shared so many of his feelings. With an agreeable hoot Hedwig finally stuck one talon out and allowed Dudley to tie the envelope in place.

"Thanks Hedwig," Dudley stated gratefully, "This needs to go to Hermione. You know where she lives, right?"

Hedwig gave Dudley a look that seemed to ask, "Are you kidding me?" and then she took flight. In seconds she was gliding gracefully under the clear blue sky. Daytime was never an ideal time for an owl to be out and about, but Hedwig knew this was important. Dudley silently watched the owl as she disappeared into the distance.

A strange feeling suddenly overtook Dudley and he nearly fell to his knees in surprise. It was an odd sensation, one he had never felt before. Dudley felt heavier as if he had suddenly gained ten or twenty pounds. The young man didn't understand it yet but eventually he would realize that he had just discovered two concepts that had always been completely foreign to him, concern and compassion.

For the first time in his young life Dudley had his own weight to bear.


	5. Sweet Success

_He's gone away  
He's so distracted  
He must be sick in some way  
well so they say  
He's already gone home  
That´s why he is all alone  
_

_Invisible to the eye_

A large stack of books tumbled to the Burrow's sitting room floor. The sound was so familiar to the inhabitants that Ron Weasley and Charles Granger didn't even glance up from the wizard's chess set sitting on the table between them. A moment later Mr. Granger called out a sneaky move causing Ron to curse under his breath.

"Ronald Weasley," Molly Weasley exclaimed as she stepped into the room.

Ron blushed sheepishly. "Sorry mum."

"Hermione, are you still pouring over those books? You'll go blind if you're not careful."

"Just studying Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied mechanically as she adjusted her brand new reading glasses. Perhaps there was some truth to Mrs. Weasley's warning.

After the school year ended Hermione was able to persuade her parents to move to the Burrow. Remus had helped her plead her case, insisting that it was just too dangerous for them to stay at home. She is one of Harry's best friends after all and a muggle-born, definitely a prime target for the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. The Grangers had been nervous about the move at first, neither one of them wanting to leave their home or their lucrative dental practice, but after Mrs. Granger's receptionist went missing they both decided it would probably be for the best.

The Burrow had become the unofficial headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Hogwarts was the official meeting place but for smaller, more secretive meetings, the Burrow worked perfectly well. Many of the members had been worried that the Order would weaken after Dumbledore's death or perhaps disband altogether. Instead the group had surprised themselves. Each member seemed to be working extra hard gathering information and preventing as many attacks as they could. No one could say the Weasleys weren't doing their part to help. With so many children, each with their own specialized skills, the Weasleys were a force to be reckoned with.

"Checkmate," Ron announced proudly.

Mr. Granger stared at the board in shock. "What? Where? Darn! Another then?"

"Alright," Ron agreed while setting up the chessboard for the next game.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the two of them. She understood that her parents could only do so much to help the wizarding world's cause, but in her opinion, Ron was being exceptionally lazy. How could he hope to help Harry defeat Voldemort if he couldn't even manage to get out of bed before ten?

"Molly, I think the cookies are about done," Mrs. Granger called out from the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands together giddily. "I never knew that baking the muggle way could be so much fun!"

Hermione stifled a giggle as Mr. Weasley bounded into the room, a frilly pink apron tied around his waist. Ron shook his head in embarrassment while Hermione's father chuckled in amusement. Mr. Granger hadn't met many wizards in his lifetime. Dumbledore had stopped at their home once or twice and Remus Lupin was always very friendly, but even with his limited knowledge of the wizarding world, he knew that Arthur Weasley was definitely in a class all his own.

Surprisingly enough, Arthur was of the very same opinion when it came to Charles. The muggle man never ceased to astound Arthur in his thirst for information regarding the wizarding world. Though he supposed he should have expected it, judging by Hermione's study habits. Did the girl ever take a break?

"Come have some cookies everyone," Arthur said cheerfully, "and that means you too Hermione. I don't think all those books are going anywhere."

"Just one moment," Hermione replied absentmindedly, her eyes never leaving the dusty tome laid out in front of her.

Mr. Granger followed Mr. Weasley into the kitchen while Ron lagged behind, nervously looking from the kitchen to where Hermione lay on the floor. He had a difficult decision to make. Should he try and convince his girlfriend to give it a rest for one day and in the process risk getting his head bitten off? Or should he just keep his mouth shut and go get a few warm, freshly baked cookies? Ron weighed his options carefully. The cookies definitely seemed the better course to take but the thought of the love of his young life wasting away, buried in a pile of books, caused him to think twice about the situation.

"Hermione," Ron whispered as he tentatively toed a few books out of his way. Sitting down on the floor, he waited for her to acknowledge his presence.

After a few minutes passed Hermione finally spoke. "Yes Ron?" She questioned, attention still firmly on the book

"Come have a cookie," he urged.

"I said I'd be along in a moment, didn't I?"

"Yes, but…"

The pleading tone of Ron's voice was the only thing that kept Hermione from snapping at him. Instead she turned and gave him a loving smile. "Don't worry Ron, I'll be there in a moment. I just have a few more pages to look over."

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but quickly changed his mind. If Hermione enjoyed studying, who was he to tell her she should stop. "Okay. I'll make sure to save a couple cookies for you."

"Thank you Ron," Hermione replied before giving him a small peck on the cheek, causing his cheeks to turn a deep red and a dopey grin to form on his mouth.

Once Ron left the room Hermione stealthily shifted the large book and pulled out a medium-sized notebook. She cautiously flipped over the cover and looked at the first page. It was a very long, very sincere, letter to her best friend Harry. A letter she had begun writing shortly after Dumbledore's funeral.

"This just has to work," Hermione mumbled to herself as she carefully ripped out the page and began to fold it.

Something about Dumbledore's death just wasn't right and Hermione was determined to get to the bottom of it. Harry had recounted the events that took place just before Dumbledore's death to the Order and the Ministry. He told them of how Snape cast the killing curse and Dumbledore had been blasted out of the tower. He even told them of Draco's hesitation and how Dumbledore had frozen him in place under his invisibility cloak. But in Hermione's mind, something just wasn't adding up.

Why didn't Fawkes come to Dumbledore's rescue like he did that night at the Department of Mysteries? If Snape was really loyal to Voldemort then why didn't he get rid of Harry the many times he had the chance to? And of course there was a bigger problem with Harry's story, a problem concerning the alleged killing curse cast by Professor Snape.

Hermione had studied all of the major curses, jinxes, hexes, spells and charms. And even though she hated them, the three unforgivable curses were just too interesting to ignore. So she read everything she could find concerning the three curses. In the end though, she concentrated the most on the killing curse. Looking back, she knew that her interest in the killing curse stemmed from the story of Harry Potter.

When she first read about Harry Potter and that fateful night at Godric's Hollow she believed the story to be nothing more than a myth. A fanciful story that magical parents told their magical children, but then she met Harry Potter and saw the lightning bolt shaped scar. From that moment her interest in the killing curse multiplied tenfold. She was sure that in some old book or dusty tome there would be an explanation for such a strange occurrence.

After six years at Hogwarts, most of which spent in the school's library, Hermione finally had to admit to herself that what happened to Harry was an unexplainable event. So many variables were involved that no one would probably ever learn of what truly happened that night, unless they were there of course. Harry was there but he was too young to remember what took place, except for disjointed images and flashes of a child's memory. But Harry was there when Dumbledore was killed which meant that deep within his mind he had a completely accurate account of what happened that night at Hogwarts.

I need that memory, Hermione thought to herself as she placed the letter in an envelope and wrote Harry's name on the outside. If she had that memory then she could examine it and finally have an answer to the questions that continued to boil within her mind.

A completely ordinary brown owl sat on one of the windowsills in the sitting room. Hermione recognized it as one of the various owls used by the Order and even though her request from Harry wasn't exactly Order business, she reasoned that it was important enough to make use of the bird.

"Take this to Harry Potter," she whispered quietly as she tied the envelope to the owl's leg, "You must not been seen." The owl hooted softly in reply and flew off swiftly into the sky.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise as two owls appeared a moment later, both of them flying right towards her. One was a regal looking gray owl and the other was a very familiar white owl. "Ron!" she shouted, "Ron, its Hedwig!"

There was a commotion in the kitchen as Ron, his parents and the Grangers rushed into the sitting room. A moment later loud footsteps sounded down the stairs and Ginny Weasley rushed to the open window. The room was silent as Hedwig landed and held out her leg, patiently waiting to be relieved of her burden. The large gray owl landed a moment later and hooted impatiently. Hermione quickly untied both envelopes. The gray owl flew off immediately while Hedwig remained behind, obviously waiting for a reply. A startled gasp escaped Hermione as she turned over the envelope and noticed the unfamiliar handwriting.

"It's from Dudley!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"What about the other one?" Ron asked.

Mr. Weasley plucked the small envelope from Hermione's grasp. "It's from Aberforth, Albus' brother!"

"Well what does it say dear?" Mrs. Weasley questioned impatiently.

Arthur quickly opened the envelope and pulled out the parchment inside. "It's a request to attend the reading of Albus' will," he answered soberly, "It's a week from now and we're all invited…how strange…"

"What's strange?" asked Ron.

"The Grangers are invited too," Arthur replied as he glanced at Hermione's parents, "I wonder why?"

"Who cares about that?" Ginny broke in suddenly, "What about the letter from Dudley? What if Harry's in trouble!"

All attention immediately turned to the envelope that Hermione was staring at fearfully. She was afraid to open the envelope. What terrible thing could have happened to Harry that would require Dudley to send a letter with Hedwig? Everyone knew the Dursley's hated the magical world and everything to do with it.

"It's addressed to me," Hermione mumbled in confusion, "Why would he send a letter to me?"

"What if it's a trick?" Ron questioned.

"Don't be foolish Ronald," Hermione responded, "Dudley's a muggle, it's not as if he could have hexed it."

"I suppose…"

"Go on and open it," Ginny urged impatiently.

Hermione nodded absentmindedly and slowly opened the envelope. As she read the letter a look of surprise crossed over her face and she couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of Dudley's request.

"Well?" Mr. Granger questioned after a few moments had passed.

"He wants to know how he can help Harry without magic," replied Hermione as she looked over the letter once more.

"I thought Harry's cousin hated him," Ginny stated with a confused frown, "Why in the world would he want to help him now?"

"Apparently he's had a change of heart," Hermione explained as she read the letter once more, part of her not able to believe what she was reading.

Hermione handed the letter to Ron and he quickly read through it. "How could he help Harry anyway? He's only a muggle."

"Muggles aren't completely helpless," Hermione's father interrupted.

"Of course not," Mrs. Weasley added supportively, "I'm sure there's some way Dudley could help."

Ron shook his head. "Harry will be here in a week so he won't have much time to do much anyway."

"About that," Mr. Weasley interrupted hesitantly, "I spoke with Minerva this morning and Harry won't be coming to the Burrow this summer."

"What!" Hermione, Ginny and Ron all exclaimed at the same time.

"Apparently Dumbledore made arrangements for Harry to stay at Hogwarts this summer for some extra training," Mr. Weasley continued as the three children glared at him accusingly, "It wasn't my decision and Minerva didn't even know about it until yesterday."

Hermione gave Ron's father a questioning look. "But how did she know?"

"A letter came from Dumbledore," explained Arthur, "He must have asked someone to send it in the event of his death. The Dursleys will be staying there as well."

This time it was Molly Weasley who shouted. "The Dursleys! The man must have been mad! They'll never agree to it!"

Arthur shook his head. "They already have. I spoke to Remus and he said that Albus had been corresponding with Petunia and Vernon throughout the school year. Apparently they all decided that it would be best for the whole family to remain together."

"But that means…doesn't it seem…"

Mrs. Granger urged her daughter to continue. "What is it Hermione?"

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly, deciding to keep her thoughts to herself for the time being.

Suddenly a cloud of black smoke wafted into the sitting room causing Mrs. Granger's eyes to widen in surprise. "The cookies!" she exclaimed loudly. In seconds the four adults were rushing into the kitchen.

Ginny and Ron stayed behind. Both of them were giving Hermione a questioning look. "I guess I should probably write back," Hermione stated, attempting to draw the two Weasley's attention to the letter in her hand.

"You know something we don't," Ginny snapped.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied before turning quickly and sitting down among her pile of books.

"O come off it Hermione," Ron responded peevishly, "It's obvious you've got some idea rolling around in the big brain of yours, so spill it."

Hermione glanced nervously from her boyfriend to her best girl friend and back again. "It's just a theory right now. I need to work a few things out first and then I'll tell you. I promise."

Neither Weasley looked as if they believed her but she knew that for now she had to keep her investigation a secret. If her theory was correct then it would mean that Dumbledore had pulled off one of the most complicated and bizarre plans in wizarding world history. And if that were true then Hermione couldn't risk exposing it to anyone. Too much depended on its success.

Ever since Remus was a child he had hated large groups of people. Muggle or wizard, it didn't really matter, large groups made him nervous. He cursed his luck for the hundredth time before climbing out of his car and walking into the crowded airport terminal.

Thousands of different smells and sounds assaulted him at once, some pleasant and some not. He fought the urge to turn around and make a run for it. Only his unwavering loyalty to Dumbledore kept him from doing just that. So he cursed his luck once again and then cursed the old coot of a headmaster for good measure.

It seemed like hours passed before he finally pushed through the horde of travelers and made his way to baggage claim. A nervous feeling bubbled up inside him but he stubbornly pushed it back down. Remus knew he couldn't let his fear overwhelm him. He had been charged with a very important task and he was determined to do his best.

Remus' attitude had changed a lot since the death of Albus Dumbledore. He knew Nymphadora was worried that he was working too hard and doing too much but he just couldn't help himself, he had to keep busy. Soon the reality of everything that had happened in the last few years would hit him and he would crash. Remus could see it coming and he knew there was no way from him to keep it from happening but that didn't mean he couldn't be of some use before that time came.

Suddenly Remus sensed something familiar in the air. It was a magical aura, a strong and comforting magical aura. He followed his instincts and within seconds he found himself standing among a group of muggle children. A young woman stood in the middle of the group. Her long brown hair covered her face as she bent down to speak to a little boy. Remus continued to watch as she reached down and seemed to pluck out a shiny muggle coin from behind his ear.

The boy squealed in delight and his mother, standing outside the group, clapped her hands at his joyousness. As the little boy made his way out of the group a young girl rushed to take her place. This time it was a small bag of muggle candies that seemed to magically appear inside the little girl's pocket. All of the children clapped and laughed as the girl thanked the young woman and then ran off to find her parents.

Remus was a wizard and had been exposed to real magic all his life, but even he became caught up in the children's excitement at the simple, completely non-magical, magic tricks. A half hour later he was surprised to look at his watch and see how late it was. He glanced around the terminal, slightly confused as to how he could have lost track of so much time. Surely Dumbledore's granddaughter was waiting for him somewhere and here he was watching a muggle magician. He began to slowly make his way out of the group of children, being careful not to step on any small toes, and that's when it happened.

The young woman looked up, her long brown hair fell away from her face and a pair of twinkling blue eyes met Remus' gaze. Feet frozen in place, the werewolf suddenly found himself unable to breathe properly. The woman seemed to sense his predicament because she immediately shooed the children away, giving each a piece of candy to keep their complaints to a minimum.

"Are you okay?" The young woman asked in a concerned tone.

"I think so," Remus mumbled, "You're Rowena Dumbledore, aren't you?"

The woman's mouth turned up into a wide smile as she nodded her head. "Remus Lupin?" Remus nodded slowly, still too much in shock to form a complete sentence.

Rowena cocked her head to the side and tried to think of a friendly gesture to calm the man's apparent nervousness. A moment later her expression brightened as an idea came to her. She dug into one of her pockets and pulled out a small box.

"Lemon drop," she offered politely causing Remus to giggle at the absurdity of the situation.

"I would love one," Remus stated as he continued to giggle wildly. He held out his hand and began to smile but his smile soon turned to a frown as the world around him became fuzzy and out of focus.

Remus dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, leaving Rowena staring down at him in complete shock. "Remus!" a voice called out from across the room. Now Rowena was really confused. For some reason the little old lady who had been sitting next to her on the plane was now sprinting toward her.

"What happened?" the old lady asked as she knelt down next to Remus' still form.

"I don't know," Rowena stated truthfully, "He looked a little nervous so I offered him a piece of candy. Then he just fainted."

"A piece of candy?" the old woman questioned as she glanced up at the box in Rowena's hand. Her attention immediately turned back to Remus as he pushed himself up from the floor and slowly opened his eyes.

"Lemon drops," he stated and then began to laugh. His laughter became louder as he pointed at the box of candies. "Lemon drops!" he exclaimed again, causing the little old lady to burst out laughing as well. Rowena stared at the two, her mind still trying to figure out what in the world was going on. She waited patiently for the laughter to subside.

Finally the old lady pushed herself up off the floor and she and Rowena helped Remus to stand. Rowena glanced nervously at the two people in front of her and shrugged. "What's wrong with lemon drops? I like lemon drops."


	6. Mistake in Brewing

_**Hey, three is a crowd  
I´ll see you tomorrow  
Hey, three is a crowd  
Stay away till tomorrow**_

A cruel smirk formed on Snape's lips as an explosion rocked the lab. It was the second such explosion that day but Severus wasn't surprised. Poor Draco seemed to be having a very difficult time brewing even the simplest potion. Of course Severus had no idea why this was. Snape supposed that it could have been the extra beetle legs he 'accidentally' dropped in Draco's cauldron that caused the first explosion. The recent explosion might have been due to the fact that the second cauldron he gave Draco had been soaked in dishwashing soap. But that was only one theory. The suds covering Draco's half of the lab could have been caused from any number of mistakes in the brewing process.

Severus turned around to shout at the Malfoy heir and almost cracked a grin at the sight of the young wizard covered in soap suds staring despondently at his destroyed cauldron. "Mr. Malfoy!" Severus shouted in the most outraged tone he could muster. "Perhaps you should retire to your rooms for the day and study your old schoolbooks. I suggest you start with the first year texts and work your way forward."

"But I don't understand what the problem is," Draco muttered in frustration. "I know I brewed this one correctly."

"Mr. Malfoy," Severus warned. Draco gave a small nod and quickly left the lab. A sigh of relief escaped Severus once the door closed. Finally he was alone or so he thought.

"I see Draco isn't working out quite as we had hoped," Voldemort hissed as he stepped out of the shadows.

Severus was surprised but made sure to appear as if he'd known the Dark Lord was there all along. "His thoughts seem to be elsewhere. I'm sure he would do well if he focused on the task at hand."

"Don't tell me you're growing soft Severus?" Voldemort questioned in an amused tone.

"Just being realistic," Severus replied, "The boy has been through a lot in the last few weeks and with Lucius still in Azkaban…"

The Dark Lord's expression darkened at Snape's unspoken criticism. It was just the reaction Severus was hoping for. "Perhaps it is time to end his punishment," Severus suggested carefully.

"Perhaps you are right," Voldemort conceded. Without another word the Dark Lord disappeared back into the shadows. Severus turned his attention back to the potion he was working on. His black hair fell down over his face, hiding the look of confidence that had appeared on his face.

**dSz**

Rowena was confused. A hundred questions seemed to be spinning around her brain all at once. Most people would take time to sort out each question or perhaps pick out the most pressing ones and try to find answers. Of course, Rowena Dumbledore always was one to pride herself on not being like most people. So instead of asking Remus a million questions, including why she had to close her eyes before stepping onto Platform 9 ¾ , she decided to push those questions out of her mind and watch the beautiful scenery fly by.

"My mother always told me that everything will be answered in time," Rowena explained as Remus studied her from the other side of the compartment.

"Is there anything I can get for you? Something to eat or drink perhaps?"

Rowena shook her head and offered him a smile. "No, I'm perfectly comfortable. Thanks for asking though. Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"What would you like to know?" Remus questioned nervously.

"Well, what do you do for a living? Are you married? Do you have kids? Do you live in Hogsmeade?"

"Um…well, you see…" Remus stuttered, trying to find the correct reply. "I'm not married and I don't have any children. Right now I'm living at Hogwarts and I'm…between jobs right now. But working for the Order keeps me very busy, even after…"

"Even after what?" she questioned innocently.

A knot formed in Remus' throat. "Even after your grandfather's death."

"So, what's the Order? Is that some kind of group or something?"

"You could say that," Remus stated with a nod, "It's hard to explain without telling you the whole story. Basically there are some bad people in the world and the Order is working to stop them."

Rowena chewed her lip and gave Remus a contemplative look. "The bad people killed my grandfather, didn't they? You don't want to tell me the whole story because it's too difficult right?" Remus nodded dumbly in agreement. "That's okay. After my mom passed away I didn't want to talk to anyone about it for months. It was just too hard, you know? Somehow talking about it just made it seem so much more real." Remus gave another nod in agreement.

"So, what do you do back home?" Remus asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"I work at a group home for troubled kids," Rowena replied cheerfully, "My grandma thinks I'm crazy for doing it but I love it." She frowned suddenly and it took her a few seconds to notice her mistake. "My grandma thought I was crazy, I mean…yeah, when she was alive she thought I was crazy."

"I'm sorry," Remus offered, reaching over to gently pat her hand, "When did she pass?"

"It's been about four months now," Rowena replied quietly, "I've been alone since then. Do you think my great-uncle will like me?" The hopeful look on her face caught Remus by surprise and he sputtered.

Remus knew that Aberforth Dumbledore wasn't the nicest man in the world. Most people thought the old man to be creepy and quite dodgy, but Remus wasn't about to tell Rowena that, not when she seemed so lonely and hopeful. He had to tell her something though, something to warn her of what was to come.

"Aberforth is a little…eccentric, so I wouldn't expect too much from him," Remus replied carefully, "I do wish that you could have met Albus. I have no doubt that the two of you would have gotten along quite well. You remind me a lot of him, especially your eyes."

Rowena smiled. "My mom and grandma always said the same thing. Grandma hated it. She'd always say, 'Rowena, you stop that darn twinkling right now' and mom and I would laugh so hard…" Her voice trailed off as she tried her best to swallow past the lump in her throat. No use in getting all choked up about the past, she thought to herself.

She glanced out the window as the train began to slow. "Looks like we're here," Remus stated in the happiest tone he could muster, "and it's still light out, which is good." She gave him a questioning look. "We have a bit of a walk," he explained, "and it's a little dangerous to be traveling around at night."

"The bad people, right? But they don't know who I am, do they?"

It was the question that Remus had been expecting but he still had trouble answering. "They might," he replied soberly.

**dSz**

Harry let out a loud yawn before flipping to the next page of the book laid out in front of him. It was a book on defense that Hermione had slipped into his trunk while he had been packing. Inside he found a note stating that the book was from the restricted section of the library and needed to be returned next year. Harry knew it was Hermione's way of telling him that the smart thing to do would be to go back to Hogwarts and finish his schooling, but he didn't know if he could do that. Not now, not after what happened to Dumbledore.

The ache in his heart grew at the thought of Dumbledore but he pushed it away and continued to read. The best way to respect Dumbledore's memory would be to destroy Voldemort once and for all and he couldn't do that while mourning Dumbledore. No, that would have to wait until the wizarding world was safe and Voldemort was gone for good.

A tapping sound drew Harry's attention to the window. He jumped in surprise as he recognized the ordinary brown owl as one the Order used to correspond with one another. In minutes he had relieved the owl of its envelope. His nervousness soon died away when he noticed the letter was from Hermione. Not that Hermione's letters weren't important but they usually contained lectures about studying, eating and taking care of himself.

**Dear Harry,**

**How are you? I hope the Dursleys are treating you better this year. If not, then you need to let the Order know or you could always threaten to hex them once you turn 17.**

Well that's very un-Hermione-like, Harry thought to himself before continuing on.

**I know you must be hurting after what happened and hopefully you're not blaming yourself. I also know that the memory of that night must be a hard one to deal with. That is one of the reasons I am making the following request.**

**I'd like your memory of what happened that night in the tower.**

The letter began to shake as Harry squeezed it tightly in his hands. He couldn't believe what he was reading. How dare Hermione think that he would give up his memory of Dumbledore's death. It may not be a happy memory but it's his last memory of Dumbledore, the man who was almost like a father to him.

In a fit of rage he began to crumple the letter but something caused him to stop. Two words caught his eye, 'something suspicious'.

**Something suspicious went on that night and I want to get to the bottom of it. I haven't told anyone else my thoughts on the matter and I know I can count on you to keep this quiet as well. I keep going over the events of that night and they are just not adding up. You know what I mean Harry, I know you do. Think back to everything that happened that night, everything that was done and everything that was said. I think you'll notice that certain things just don't add up.**

Harry was flabbergasted by what Hermione had written until he began to do exactly what she said he should. He thought back to that night in the tower and then he went back further into his memories of that night. The things Dumbledore had said, the things that he had done, it was almost as if…as if he knew he was going to die or at least he knew something was going to happen.

**The only thing I can come up with is that Dumbledore knew something was going to happen concerning Draco Malfoy and Snape. Perhaps he didn't realize it would happen that night but he must have known Draco was up to something. When has anything ever happened in Hogwarts that Dumbledore didn't know about?**

Harry couldn't help but scoff at that statement. There were lots of things that had happened over the years that Dumbledore hadn't known about. Every year something happened right underneath Dumbledore's nose. But the more Harry thought about it, the more he agreed that Dumbledore had always seemed to know more than anyone else at the school. Maybe he knew and still let those things happen? Harry shook his head. He couldn't believe that Dumbledore would allow any students to be put in danger.

**Don't answer right away, just think about it. You wouldn't really have to give the memory up for good, just long enough for me to view it in Dumbledore's pensieve. Please Harry, think about it.**

**Take care,**

**Hermione**

The chair gave a loud groan as Harry sat down hard. He was stunned by Hermione's request because he knew that Hermione wouldn't ask for something like that unless it was really important.

"I'll think about it," he proclaimed to the empty room, "I owe it to her to think about it." But somewhere in the back of his mind Harry already knew what his answer would be.

A knock on his bedroom door caused him to start. "Hey Harry," Dudley called out, "You in there."

"Yeah, come on in," Harry replied.

Dudley rushed into the room clutching a piece of parchment in his now not so stubby fingers. "I got a letter from your friend Hermione," he stated excitedly, "It came by owl and everything."

"What?" Harry stuttered in confusion, "Why would she write to you?"

Dudley suddenly felt embarrassed. "I just wanted to find a way to help you," Dudley answered, looking up to meet Harry's curious gaze, "I don't know anything about magic other than that I can't do it so I don't know how to help you fight bad wizards."

"But, I still don't…"

"I can help you," Dudley interrupted confidently, "Just because I'm a muggle doesn't mean that I'm helpless, even against evil wizards."

"But…"

"Tomorrow we start," Dudley proclaimed, "I'll wake you early so you better get to bed early tonight."

"I don't…"

"I think we'll start with jogging," Dudley stated thoughtfully, "Then perhaps we'll move on to weights. I wonder if we can bring my weights along with us to Hogwarts, then we can work out there too."

"Hold on a second!" Harry bellowed loudly, "What do you mean 'along with us to Hogwarts'?"

Dudley gave Harry a questioning look. "Didn't Mom tell you?" he asked and Harry shook his head. "O, she told me weeks ago, I just expected you knew."

"Well I didn't," Harry snapped angrily.

"Hey, don't get mad at me," his cousin replied quickly, "It wasn't my idea."

"Then who's idea was it?" Harry growled.

"It was Dumbledore's idea," his Aunt Petunia stated as she took a step into his bedroom to stand behind Dudley. "Now go wash for supper, the both of you."


	7. A Heart's Retreat

_Taste my loneliness,  
but yet surrounded  
Having guilt for these lonely feelings  
Every night the same questions  
Burning in my head  
Keeping me  
__Far away from sleep_

Something was wrong; Remus could feel it as they walked down the path to Hogsmeade. He suddenly had the urge to change course and take Rowena directly to Hogwarts. But Dumbledore's orders had been clear, she was to meet with Aberforth first and then, after everything was explained, Remus was to bring her to the school.

The path seemed clear enough but still Remus was torn. Perhaps he should have told a few members of the order to come along. It death eaters did attack he highly doubted he'd be able to fend them off on his own. But at the time he had made his plans he felt it was wiser if no one knew of Rowena's arrival or even of her existence. As his senses screamed at him that danger was near, he regretted his decision.

Without a second thought he pulled out his wand and scanned the area around them. The birds were chirping and everything was still and at peace. Then suddenly, without warning, everything became quiet. Rowena glanced back and gave Remus a questioning look. He put a finger to his lips and attempted to convey his thoughts with his eyes. She appeared confused but remained silent. A flash of light off to their left set everything in motion. Remus shot a stunner off blindly and grabbed Rowena's hand.

"Come on," he shouted as he pulled her along as quickly as his long legs would carry him. Black figures appeared from out of nowhere and soon Remus and Rowena found themselves surrounded.

"Hand over the girl and we'll let you live werewolf," one of the masked attackers demanded.

"Remus?" Rowena questioned quietly as she attempted to make herself as small as possible. Remus gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and turned to face the death eater who had spoken.

"What do you want with her?" Remus asked, attempting to stall for time. He tried to think of some kind of escape route. Apparating wouldn't work, he wasn't strong enough either physically or magically. He hadn't taken a portkey with him; those were too hard to come by, even for order members. So he did the only thing he could think of.

"Expecto Patronum," he bellowed before the death eater could answer. Rowena was shocked to see a silvery figure step out from the glowing tip of his wand. It appeared to be a small man or perhaps a boy.

The silvery being glanced at Remus as if waiting for directions before floating swiftly towards the ancient looking castle off in the distance. Everything seemed to pause as the group watched the figures progress. But once the figure disappeared all attention returned to Rowena and her protector.

"Help won't come quick enough," one of the masked figures hissed in an amused tone. Remus knew the death eater was right but he hoped to be able to stall long enough to keep Rowena safe.

"I will fight you if I have to," Remus stated calmly. The group chuckled at his threat. It was obvious Remus wasn't strong enough to stand in their way.

"Who are you?" Rowena asked in the calmest voice she could muster.

"Friends of your dearly departed grandfather," a female voice cackled loudly, "And now you'll come with us to meet our Master."

Curiosity getting the best of her, Rowena couldn't help but question the death eater further. "Master? Who is your Master?"

The death eater didn't answer the question, she didn't get the chance. A voice called out before she could respond. "He's a snake faced bastard that will never have the pleasure of meetin' you!"

Rowena's breath caught in her throat as everyone turned toward the speaker. It was a man wearing some kind of robe and walking with a limp. He looked very haggard and he was wearing some type of novelty eye that continuously rolled around in its socket. On his right stood a young woman, whose hair was the most shocking shade of red that Rowena had ever seen. Behind them stood another man, this one was wearing a long tattered robe and small half-moon glasses. He was tall and thin with long grey hair and a long grey beard to match.

"Thank Merlin," Remus sighed in relief.

"No, thank Tonks here for letting us know where you were and what foolish thing you were up to," Moody responded gruffly before addressing the death eaters. "All you snake lovers better clear out before I decide to start hauling you off to Azkaban."

One of the death eaters chuckled darkly. "And how do you plan to do that, seeing as you're outnumbered and you got a young girl and an invalid werewolf to protect."

Without a word to his companions, the tall old man suddenly pushed through to stand in front of the group of dark robed wizards. "I am here to escort my grand-niece to Hogwarts," the man said in a calm and confident tone, "and I must warn you that it would be in your best interest to stand aside." He let the threat hang in silence for a moment before slowly walking forward.

"It's Aberforth," one of the death eaters hissed.

Rowena noticed that a few of the group seemed thoroughly spooked by the man coming towards them, the man who had just announced himself as being her great uncle. But one or two of the masked people seemed doubtful that he posed much of a threat. As she looked around at the group, the man who had identified her uncle by name met her gaze. Instantly she felt as if his ebony eyes were looking straight through her and delving into her mind. A look of confusion crossed the man's face as she did not even try to turn away.

The death eater jerked suddenly as if he'd been electrically shocked and then with a loud crack he disappeared. His departure set off a chain reaction in the rest of the group and soon the wizards were disappearing one by one. With a final sneer in Aberforth's direction the last death eater apparated away, leaving Remus, Moody, Tonks and the two Dumbledore's without even putting up a fight.

Rowena considered the remaining group. The woman called Tonks was kicking the ground and looking at her shyly while the odd looking man continued to remain on guard as if another group of crazy masked people were going to appear at any moment. Remus was opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, obviously at a loss as how to explain the odd events which had just occurred. Her eyes finally rested on her great uncle Aberforth and his attention seemed to be on her as well.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves she slowly stepped forward and put out her hand. "Rowena Dumbledore," she offered in a shaky voice, "and I believe you are my uncle."

"Aberforth Dumbledore," the old man replied without taking her hand. He waited for her to drop it before sweeping her up into a tight embrace. He released her quickly and straightened his robes, leaving her looking slightly dazed and disoriented.

"Now," he said in a stern but caring tone, "Allow me to escort you home."

Rowena stared at him questioningly. "Home?"

"Of course," he replied as he motioned to the castle which stood in the distance, "To Hogwarts, where every Dumbledore is always welcome."

**dSz**

Severus lay on the cold cement, gasping for breath, waiting for the agony to end. His master was every unhappy that the youngest Dumbledore had slipped through their fingers. A small line of blood pooled from Snape's mouth to the floor as he bit his lip again and again.

"What I do not understand Severus," the Dark Lord hissed angrily, "Is why you would retreat in fear from an old fool?"

"Puh…puh…please mast…er," Severus replied shakily, "It wa…wasn't my fault."

The Dark Lord took a moment to study his Potions Master and former spy. He wasn't about to forgive Snape but he was surprised that Snape had retreated so easily. And the man appeared more shaken and out of sorts then the Dark Lord had ever seen him before.

"Explain yourself," he ground out, allowing Snape a few moments to collect himself, but even then he could see a bit of confusion buried deep within Snape's gaze.

"I attempted to see into her mind," Severus explained, "but she…I can't explain it…but it was as if…"

"My patience is running thin," the Dark Lord snapped, waving his wand threateningly.

"Images came forth in my mind," he continued, "but they were not memories."

"Show me," the Dark Lord hissed and Snape did. He opened his mind to the Dark Lord and allowed him to see what the young Dumbledore girl had projected into his brain.

The most evil wizard alive found himself in the middle of an odd scene. He was in some kind of den surrounded by a family. On the floor sat two young twin boys who appeared to be around ten or eleven. In front of a fireplace sat a young girl, perhaps in her teens, resting on a cushion while reading a large book. A mature and friendly looking woman was reclining on a couch along with a familiar looking man.

It took the Dark Lord a few minutes to realize that the man was Severus. A younger and more joyful looking Severus with shiny black hair and a straight nose. The man appeared ten or even fifteen years younger than the man the Dark Lord knew to be Severus Snape. His eyes widened in surprise as he realized what he was seeing.

The room spun slightly as he quickly exited his servant's mind. "I show not your face but your heart's desire," he whispered quietly to himself. "You may go now Severus," he commanded as thoughts began to swirl in his head. A witch with that kind of talent could prove very useful…very useful indeed.

Severus left the room in a daze, not even taking a breath until he reached the relative safety of his private quarters. He had let his master see the image that the young girl had projected into his mind and surely now the Dark Lord was more interested in the girl's talents then the sight of his servant's most secret wish. The potions master was still shaken though, not by the images in his head, or by the fact that the dark lord had seen it all, but because of the whisper that had followed the daydream.

"_I can help you,"_ the voice had whispered, _"I can help you make this true."_


	8. Change

_Happenings in my life wants me to be down  
Maybe I'm better off living on my own  
Far away from friends that I don't want to hurt  
Would anybody miss me  
If I went away for a couple of days  
Or would I miss myself too much_

A large burst of air escaped Harry as he lifted the heavy weight to his chest. With little effort he let it drop and then lifted it once more. He did this three more times before bending down to place the weight on the floor. His body was tired but it felt good. Harry had found something satisfying in pushing himself to the limits of what his body could handle. The exhaustion didn't allow him to think about anything else but focusing on the weight in his arms.

"That was great!" Dudley exclaimed with pride, "You're doing great! I can't believe it's not even been a week and you already look better."

"Because I looked terrible before?" Harry questioned with a grin.

Dudley shook his head. "You know that's not what I meant."

Suddenly Harry's Aunt Petunia stuck her head through the doorway to the basement. "Time for supper boys!"

It took Harry a moment to realize who it was. Aunt Petunia seemed so different lately. Uncle Vernon was acting nicer as well but Aunt Petunia's personality had gone through a major overhaul. She was constantly doting on Dudley, as usual, but now she doted on Harry as well and he was having a tough time deciding if he liked the attention or not. It seemed odd and unusual to have someone, especially Aunt Petunia…care.

"We'll be up in minute Mum!" Dudley called back before turning to Harry with a wide grin. "I can't believe tomorrow we leave for Hogwarts. It'll be strange being gone for the rest of the summer and Samantha's a little angry with me since I can't tell her where I'll be, but still…it's Hogwarts!"

Harry stared at Dudley in confusion, wondering if the whole family had gone mad. "What's gotten into you?"

"I don't know," Dudley stated truthfully as he began cleaning up the mess they had made. Harry began helping and soon the basement was back in order. "It's just kind of exciting, you know? An unknown place, magic, dragons, unicorns…pretty wild."

A thoughtful look crossed Harry's face as memories flitted through his mind. "Yeah, pretty wild," he agreed with a large grin. Maybe a little madness in the family wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"Boys!"

"Coming!" both boys called out at once.

Dudley stopped by the stairs and gestured for Harry to pass. "You first Boy Who Lived."

Harry took the jab in stride. "O I couldn't, you first Duddykins."

"Don't mind if I do," Dudley replied airily and quickly ran up the stairs, Harry trailing on his heels.

"No need to run boys," Harry's uncle commented from behind his newspaper.

"Sorry Dad," Dudley responded.

"Sorry Uncle Vernon," Harry added quickly, a hint of fear in his voice.

"No harm done," Vernon replied without even lowering the newspaper in front of his face.

The response surprised Harry so much that he nearly choked on his milk. A funny tingling feeling went through him and a wide smile appeared on his face. As Aunt Petunia sat down and the Dursleys began chattering away about this, that and the other thing, Harry merely leaned back in his chair and watched. Sure he answered when asked a question but for the most part he merely listened.

"So, what can we expect to see at this school of yours? Hoggarts, was it?"

"Hogwarts Dad," Dudley corrected.

"Huh?" Harry questioned stupidly. It took him a moment to realize that Uncle Vernon had just asked him a question and when his mind registered what was asked he nearly fell out of his chair.

"What sites can we expect to see at the school?" Vernon asked slowly.

Harry played with his mashed potatoes for a moment before answering. "Lots of stuff. There's the forest and a lake." He attempted to stick to the normal stuff and maybe he could ease his Uncle into some of the…more unusual things. It was a good plan but then an enthusiastic Dudley interrupted.

"The lake's full of mermaids," Dudley said excitedly, "And there's pictures that move and talk to you. And stairs that move. And a game like football that's played on brooms that fly!"

Harry's uncle mulled over the information for a moment and Harry prepared himself for the worst reaction imaginable. By the look of his Aunt's pinched features she seemed to be doing the same.

"A game like football you say?" Vernon asked curiously. Harry and Petunia let out a loud sigh and exchanged a look of relief.

"Yep," Dudley replied, his excitement growing with his father's continued interest, "They fly around on brooms and toss a ball back and forth. Then there's these two balls that fly around and hit people."

"Not exactly," Harry interrupted, "The Quidditch pitch is sort of like a football field but on each end there's three rings." He quickly rushed to the silverware drawer and grabbed three spoons. "These will represent the rings," he explained as he stuck the three spoons into the large pile of mashed potatoes on his plate.

"There are four balls in the game. Two bludgers, one quaffle and the snitch. A team has three Chasers whose job it is to get the quaffle through one of the three rings. If they do then their team gets ten points. The two Beaters on the team are responsible for keeping the bludgers from hitting anyone on their team while at the same time they do their best to hit the bludgers at the opposing team."

"Each team has one Keeper," Harry continued, "The Keeper guards the three rings and tries to keep the quaffle from going in."

"What about the snitch?" Vernon questioned.

"The snitch is worth 150 points and it's the team's Seeker who has to find it before the other team's Seeker," Harry explained, "Once the snitch is caught the game is over.

Vernon gave him a confused look. "But isn't that unfair. It seems that whichever team's Seeker finds the snitch first would automatically win the game."

Harry shook his head. "That's not always the case. At the Quidditch World Cup three years ago Bulgaria lost to Ireland even though their Seeker caught the Snitch."

"Well that was dumb of him," Dudley snorted, "Why end the game if you're not going to win?"

"Because he knew his team wouldn't win so it was pointless to continue playing," Harry stated as he pulled the spoons from his mashed potatoes.

"A smart person knows when to quit," Vernon stated, nodding in agreement.

Another tingling sensation coursed through Harry as he realized that this was the first time in his life that his uncle had agreed with him on anything. He looked over at his aunt and she smiled at him warmly.

"Well," Vernon huffed, "It will be interesting to see the game. Do you play?"

Harry nodded. "I play Seeker."

"And he's Captain of his team," Dudley added proudly.

Uncle Vernon nodded in approval. "You'll have to give us a demonstration once we get settled in at the school."

Harry nodded dumbly, still confused by his uncle's new personality. Suddenly Aunt Petunia let out a loud gasp, grabbing everyone's attention.

"What is it Petunia dear?" Vernon asked worriedly.

"The flowers," she replied, pointing to the vase in the middle of the table that held a large bouquet of tulips.

"What about the flowers?" Dudley questioned as he gave his mother a confused look. "They look fine to me."

"But…they were dead," Petunia stated, "I was going to throw them out this afternoon but I forgot." Everyone at the table turned to look at Harry who continued staring down at the table with a sheepish grin on his face.

**dSz**

Lightning flashed outside as rain battered down on the ancient castle. A lone figure stood staring out one of the windows. She watched as droplets rolled slowly down the glass before turning around. With a loud sigh Rowena sat down in the overstuffed armchair, her eyes staring down at her feet.

Aberforth had explained everything. He had told her about magic and that Hogwarts is a magical school. He told her about the Dark Lord and the state of the wizarding world. Then he told her about her father, who had apparently died in a battle with Voldemort's forces. He also told her what he knew of his brother, the late Albus Dumbledore.

Rowena now knew that her grandfather had been a great wizard. He won awards, was the headmaster of Hogwarts and had defeated the last evil Dark Lord who had threatened the wizarding world. But still there was so much she didn't know. It had taken her almost a week to make the trek to the headmaster's office where she knew the picture of her grandfather was waiting. When she finally did she went alone and told no one.

Slowly her gaze shifted from her feet to the desk and then up a little more to the portrait sitting in front of her. From inside the frame her grandfather watched Rowena as she studied his aged features and long white beard. A sad expression remained fixed upon her face as she met his eyes.

"I know you're not really him," she stated knowingly, "But you're the closest thing I'll ever have so I guess I'll just have to make due." Lightning crackled outside and the wind beat against the windows.

"I don't know you and I didn't know you," Rowena continued, "but I would have liked to know you. I can understand why you didn't tell me about any of this." She waved her hands in a large arc. "But I don't understand why all of this meant you couldn't send me a letter or visit once in awhile."

Tears began to slide down the young girl's cheeks. "I don't know anything about this world but I know that grandmother was scared that I would come here one day. That scares me because grandma was strong and the fact that she was afraid of this world…"

Rowena let out a ragged breath. "Aberforth has asked me to stay here, he says that everything will be explained when your will is read but I don't know if any explanations will make me want to remain here. My father died here, mysteriously died, and probably in a horrible way too if the stories of this Dark Lord person are anything to by."

"Aberforth is my uncle but he's not you and he and I will never be close," she explained sadly as she looked at the portrait once again. Rowena wondered when exactly the twinkle had gone out of her grandfather's eyes.

"Why?" Rowena asked the painting of her grandfather. "Why keep these secrets from me? Why not tell me the truth? Why contact me after you're already gone?"

She slowly laid her head down on the desk and began to sob. "Why didn't you want me?"

Lightning split the sky and far off in the distance a phoenix began to sing. The song wound itself around Rowena's heart and seemed to deaden the pain slightly. She let out one last ragged breath before falling into a deep sleep.

The late headmasters and headmistresses who sat upon the walls exchanged worried looks but none of them spoke, except one. "You have such a way with children Albus," Phineas Nigellus commented snidely, "It's no surprise you became a Headmaster."


	9. Check

_The candle on my floor is getting smaller,  
just like my life's getting shorter   
I can't take much more  
I need something to get it off my mind  
But everybody's better  
And everybody's sorrow is worse than mine  
But sometimes I feel OK_

Harry had to admit it to himself, he was nervous. The train ride to Hogwarts hadn't been so bad. The Dursleys were taking everything better than he had hoped. Each of them had ooh'd and ahh'd when the carriages took them up to the castle. How could they not be impressed? Hogwarts looked so mysterious and magical with all the lights on and the darkness of night surrounding it's towers. By the time McGonagall met them at the entrance doors to show them to their rooms he forgot all about the Dursleys. The only thing he could think of was Dumbledore.

In his mind's eye he retraced his steps that night. Every action taken, every word spoken, all of it came back to him in a rush. Suddenly the floor didn't seem clean, it appeared gritty and marred with blood. From the hall, which led to the Astronomy tower, he could hear the faint sounds of a fight. Then Snape was running past him, with Malfoy close behind.

"Alright there Harry?" Dudley questioned softly as the group made its way down a dimly lit hallway.

Harry blinked the memories away and turned to smile halfheartedly at his cousin. "Alright. You?"

"Brilliant," Dudley exclaimed, "This place is loads better than I even imagined it would be."

Harry couldn't help but smile at his cousin's enthusiasm. It helped him to remember all of the things he loved about Hogwarts. He knew in his heart that he couldn't allow Voldemort and his followers to ruin his feelings for his first and most beloved home.

The sound of footsteps echoing from a nearby corridor drew Harry's attention. "Is someone else here?" he asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

Professor McGonagall nodded solemnly. "Albus' granddaughter is staying at the castle. Poor girl. She's only been here for a few days, not nearly enough time to adjust and all she has left in the world is her great-uncle Aberforth. It's very sad. She's having a very difficult time right now. Perhaps you and your friends can let her tag along while you show your cousin around the castle tomorrow."

"But the will is being read tomorrow, isn't it?" Harry questioned sadly.

The Professor nodded stoically. "There will be plenty of time after and I think everyone will need to stay occupied to keep their mind off of…things."

The Dursleys made their way into the Gryffindor common room. Petunia and Vernon would take a room on the girl's side and Harry and Dudley would sleep in the seventh year boy's dormitory. Professor McGonagall passed through the doorway and Harry was about to follow her in when something caught his eye.

Down the stairs, on the second floor, stood a young woman. She appeared average at first look but something about her made Harry believe that there was more hidden beneath the long brown hair covering most of her face. He waved at her but she merely stared at him with sad blue eyes. She held Harry's gaze for a second or two and then she was gone.

**dSz**

A squeal of excitement echoed down the hallway as Hermione spotted Harry coming toward them. Without a second thought she ran toward him and was happy to note that Ron did the same. Both of them got to Harry at the same time and engulfed him in a tight hug.

"O Harry, are you doing okay? Are the Dursley's being awful? What…"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted much to Harry's relief, "give him a chance to breathe."

"Sorry," she apologized sheepishly.

Harry shrugged. "I'm as good as can be expected I suppose. The Dursley's haven't been too bad actually. They're waiting in the Room of Requirement right now."

"The Room of Requirement?" Ron and Hermoine questioned.

"Let's go kids," Mr. Weasley said, urging them along down the hallway, "The will is being read in a room on the Seventh floor."

Harry, Ron and Hermione all shared a poignant look before following the rest of the Weasley's and Hermione's parents. Everyone was dressed in his or her nicest robes and even the Weasley twins wore solemn expressions. Harry gritted his teeth, preparing himself for what was to come. Would he cry? Would he shout? Would he have no reaction at all? His brain seemed overloaded with questions and he was having trouble even thinking straight. Before he knew it they had arrived outside of the Room of Requirement and Mr. Weasley was ushering everyone inside.

The room had taken on the appearance of a large den. Comfy chairs and couches were lined up in a circle in the middle of the room with a great big roaring fire off to one side. Candlelight flickered from the chandelier hanging from the ceiling casting the room in a warm glow. As the Weasleys entered the room everyone was surprised to see the Dursleys make their way toward the door. Ron and Hermione braced themselves for the fight to come while Harry just watched the scene with a curious expression.

"Mr. Weasley if I remember correctly," Vernon stated as he held out a meaty palm, "I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. Vernon Dursley."

Mr. Weasley stared at Vernon's hand for a long moment before a smile split his face and he grabbed it enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Dursley. I don't know if you remember my family or not but this is my wife Molly, our twin sons Fred and George, our daughter Ginny and of course Ron. I don't believe you've ever met the Grangers. They're muggles too!"

Petunia took a step forward. "I don't believe we have. I'm Petunia Dursley, this is my husband Vernon and our son Dudley. Of course you know our nephew Harry."

"Charles Granger," Mr. Granger stated, shaking both Vernon's hand and Petunia's, "and this is my wife Suzanne and our daughter Hermione."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Harry's aunt said in a genial tone causing Ron to have a coughing fit.

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley warned under her breath and surprisingly enough Ron's coughing fit suddenly stopped.

"Shall we all have a seat," Professor McGonagall asked from her seat by the fireplace. "We're still waiting for a few more."

As if on cue the sound of loud footsteps could be heard from behind the door. A moment later Hagrid came stomping into the room. His eyes were red and puffy and it was obvious that the poor half-giant had been crying. Harry wouldn't be surprised if his friend hadn't been crying ever since the night Dumbledore was killed. Behind Hagrid came Professor Flitwick, Madam Sprout and Madam Pomfrey. Each of the Professors took a seat.

A few minutes passed in silence and then Dudley suddenly let out an ear-piercing scream as a large group of ghosts floated into the room. Some of them Harry didn't recognize but each of the House ghosts was in attendance. Peeves followed solemnly behind the Bloody Baron. It was the first time Harry had seen the poltergeist so subdued. After the ghosts came Remus and Tonks. Everyone looked toward Professor McGonagall, waiting for her to begin.

"Isn't this everyone?" Harry questioned in an irritated tone. He just wanted to get the whole thing done and over with.

"Two more," McGonagall answered stiffly.

"Waiting for us?" a voice asked from the doorway. The whole room turned their attention toward the new arrivals.

"It's about time Aberforth," McGonagall stated coldly.

"It's not his fault," a quiet voice called out from behind the tall man, "I wasn't ready when he came to get me."

"Let me introduce my grand-niece," Aberforth explained, "Rowena Dumbledore."

As the young woman stepped out to look at the group, Harry gasped in surprise. Ron and Hermione each gave him a confused look and then the girl turned toward them and they couldn't help but gasp as well. Her blue eyes were so much like Dumbledore's it was uncanny.

Frankly, Hermione found it a little too unnerving and decided to avert her eyes. Looking around at the rest of the room's occupants she noticed most of them doing the same. Suddenly she felt a tad bit guilty. Here was a woman who just lost a grandfather she'd never met and at the same time was thrust into a world that only a few days ago she would have thought completely impossible. Hermione decided that she would make an extra effort to befriend the young woman and help her however she could.

"Shall I begin?" McGonagall questioned as she stared at the manila envelope in her hands with a tad bit of fear in her eyes.

"Let's get this over with," Harry grumbled in annoyance causing Rowena to shoot him an angry look.

"Very well then," McGonagall replied solemnly, "I should tell all of you that the envelope is dated…well the date is…it's the date Dumbledore was murdered."

"Now I will read the list of all who should be in attendance for the reading of this will," McGonagall continued in a professional tone, "Professor Minerva McGonagall, Professor Filius Flitwick, Madam Pomona Sprout, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, Professor Rubeus Hagrid…"

The reading of his name caused Hagrid to let out a loud wail and suddenly tears were rolling down his cheeks. Without a second thought Ron, Hermione and Harry all moved as one to sit next to the sad half-giant, comforting him as best they could.

McGonagall cleared her throat before continuing on. "Remus Lupin, Nymphodora Tonks, Charles Granger, Suzanne Granger, Hermione Granger, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter, Aberforth Dumbledore and Rowena Dumbledore."

"Also all of the Hogwarts ghosts are offered attendance if they so wish," she stated with a nod toward the group of ghosts floating in one corner of the room. McGonagall slowly reached into the envelope to pull out the thick stack of papers inside.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, dropping the envelope to everyone's surprise. "It bit me," she explained.

Everyone in the room turned their attention to where the envelope lay on the floor. The small package seemed to be eating away at itself. Harry was sure he'd even heard a few quiet burps as the papers were chomped and chewed until they had completely disappeared.

"What in the bloody hell was that?!" Ron questioned fearfully and Mrs. Weasley was in such a shock that she didn't even think to scold him for his bad language.

"I assure you it was nothing special," a disembodied voice replied, "Just a bit of magic."

The whole group scanned the room, looking for the speaker, all but Harry that is. He didn't need to see who had spoken, he recognized the voice. It was a voice he would never forget.

"Dumbledore?" he asked aloud.

"Yes, it is me," the voice responded in an amused tone, "I'm sorry if I scared anyone, but I thought it would be best to leave behind something much more personal than a few pieces of paper."

"So let me begin at the beginning, since it is the best place to start," Dumbledore's voice continued. "I have something special for each of you. A secret something that you may choose to share or you may keep hidden away for yourself."

The room began to shake and a loud rumbling noise began to well up from below. Everyone nervously lifted their feet, eyeing the floor in suspicion. What surprises could Dumbledore have in store for each of them? Harry's heart pounded in his chest as the noise became deafening and a door seemed to appear from nowhere. It looked like a simple enough door but it was sitting smack dab in the middle of the room and it didn't seem to lead anywhere.

"Strange," Hermione commented as she stood to examine the door.

"Careful now," Mr. Granger warned.

"It doesn't seem to go anywhere," she commented after waving a hand on either side of the door. "Perhaps it's a doorway to another world."

"Another time and space actually," Dumbledore's voice explained, "It's a special place, specifically designed for each of you. Just walk through the door."

Harry looked around at all the hesitant faces. "I trust you," he commented aloud before stepping up to the doorway and opening it with confidence. Only darkness lay on the other side but Harry stepped through, never once losing his trust in the departed Headmaster.

The space became bright as the door slammed shut and it took Harry a moment to adjust to the light. Looking around he could see that the door had dropped him near the lake at Hogwarts. Children rushed around, some to the greenhouses, some to the Quidditch pitch. None seemed to take notice that Harry had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

He opened his mouth to call out but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Hello Harry."

Willing this dream to be real, Harry slowly turned around and looked up. "Dumbledore," he choked out before engulfing the old wizard in a tight hug.

Dumbledore laid a hand on Harry's head before wrapping both his arms around the crying teenager. "It is I, but I've only left a part of myself here. Remember when I told you that there is no spell that can bring the dead back to life."

"But you are here!" Harry exclaimed, "I can touch you and everything. You're definitely not a ghost."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not a ghost, just a memory. Now come and sit by the shore." The old wizard sat down on a large boulder and Harry sat down beside him, never taking his eyes off the Headmaster.

"How? Why? I don't understand."

"And there's no time to explain," interrupted Dumbledore. "This memory is not all I have left for you. Gryffindor's sword, which resides in my office, is yours to use as you wish. I'm sure you have a good idea as to why I would leave you the sword."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I'm the last of the Gryffindor's, aren't I?"

"I'm afraid so. It seems as if some wars must be ended. Fate has decided that either the Gryffindor line or the Slytherin line will come to an end. But you are not alone Harry, you have your friends to help you and the other heirs of course."

"Other heirs?" Harry questioned. "What other heirs?"

"It was said that the animosity between Godric and Salazar was nearly matched by the animosity between Helga and Salazar. It seems the Hufflepuff heir was fate's second choice to fulfill the prophecy."

"Neville," Harry stated with a dumfounded expression on his face.

"And the youngest of the Ravenclaw line is also at your disposal."

"Who?"

Dumbledore sighed loudly and stared off across the water. "My granddaughter."

Hermione stepped into the darkened doorway, which her best friend had just stepped through moments earlier. Instantly she was surrounded by a bright light that just as quickly faded away. A quick glance around told her that she was in a library. Not just any library though, Hogwart's library.

"Hello Miss Granger," a kind voice greeted her from behind one of the bookcases. It's speaker stepped out a moment later. "Or may I call you Hermione now that I am no longer your headmaster."

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermoine exclaimed in surprise, "This is extraordinary!"

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "I thought you would like this." He motioned to the space around him. "It is a very fancy piece of spellwork if I do say so myself."

"But how did you do it? Was it a series of spells or did you use wards? Is there…"

The cheerful old man held up one hand to silence the excited young woman. "I'm very sorry but that, my dear, is a secret. But, do you know the interesting thing about secrets Hermione?"

Hermione cleared her throat nervously. "What would that be Professor?"

"Eventually they cease to be," Dumbledore replied in a cryptic tone.

"I…don't know what you're talking about sir," Hermione replied with a loud gulp.

Dumbledore shook his head and motioned for Hermione to take a seat at a nearby table. "Come now Hermione, I think you have a secret that you'd like to share. Perhaps something to do with a Half-Blood Prince?"

Her eyes became wide and she stared defiantly at her feet. "No sir."

"Then perhaps you'd like to tell me how you ever got the idea that the prince might be a girl."

"No sir."

A low chuckle escaped the Headmaster causing Hermione to look up in shock. "It's nothing to be ashamed of Miss Granger. I understand you've prided yourself on being a muggleborn since you found out you were a witch, but there's nothing wrong with finding out you have magical relatives."

Hermione slowly shook her head. "Not him Professor, anyone but him."

"Severus isn't all bad, I assure you of that. There's no shame in having him for an uncle."

Without thinking she slammed her fist down on the table. "He's no relative of mine sir," she ground out forcefully. "And he never will be."

Remus stepped through the doorway without hesitation. After all, he had always trusted Dumbledore without a second thought. Why would that change just because the old man's dead? His nostrils flared at the smell of mold and dust. A loud sneeze escaped him and when he opened his eyes he found himself standing smack dab in the middle of the Shrieking Shack.

"Hello old friend," a familiar voice greeted kindly.

"Dumbledore!" Remus cried out desperately.

A moment later the wise old wizard stepped through the doorway and into the dimly lit room. "I am surprised we're meeting here of all places," Dumbledore stated in a curious tone. He strolled around the room for a moment before plopping down on an old sofa, sending bits of dust up all around him. Surprisingly enough, he didn't sneeze or even clear his throat. "But I suppose this place does hold a special place in your heart."

Remus nodded in agreement. "As much as I hated this place for what it represents, it also holds some of my fondest memories."

"Ah yes, the infamous Marauders," Dumbledore replied ruefully, "I think you'd be surprised how many of my fondest memories also involve that group of young troublemakers."

A wistful smile lit Remus' face. "We had a lot of good times here."

"Despite your condition?" Dumbledore questioned nonchalantly.

"Because of it," Remus replied, "We wouldn't have been half as close as we were if I would have been just a normal boy wizard."

"So being a werewolf isn't all bad then?"

Remus paused, trying to figure out where Dumbledore was going with his questioning. "I suppose not."

"I suggest you remember that in the future," Dumbledore stated, laying a hand on Remus' shoulder. "Harry will need the help of all of his friends, werewolf and wizard."

"You're not saying…"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "I'm merely suggesting that instead of trying to escape from what you are, or hide it, you embrace what is within you. I assure you it can be a very powerful thing."

Long after everyone else had stepped through the mysterious doorway Ron remained behind. He stared at it, walked around it, paced back and forth in front of it and then let out a gigantic sigh. Sometimes it's hard being wizard, he thought to himself. With one deep breath, he opened the door and stepped through.

Well, he didn't as much step through as stumble. But a pair of strong hands suddenly appeared from nowhere and stopped him from hitting the ground. Ron let out a loud shriek and backed up, right into something hard and tall. Looking up he could make out a Quidditch hoop.

"I'm at Hogwarts!" he exclaimed wildly, "At the Quidditch pitch."

"Which doesn't surprise me at all," a kind voice added. Dumbledore stepped out from the thick fog hanging in the air and suddenly the disembodied hands weren't disembodied anymore.

"Bloody hell," Ron squeaked.

Dumbledore chuckled. "How is it that I knew you would be the last one through the doorway?"

Ron kicked the ground with his trainer and looked away from the Headmaster guiltily. "Because I'm not brave, not like Harry. I'm not even smart like Hermione. I'm just a big coward."

"Enough of that," Dumbledore commanded in a strong voice. Grabbing both of Ron's shoulders he forced the boy to meet his eyes. "Everyone has their special qualities and everyone has their faults. Harry may be brave but he's also foolhardy, rushing into danger and never thinking first."

Ron nodded "Don't I know it."

"And Hermione may be intelligent but she also has the tendency to think too much. Do you know what happens to a wizard who is constantly planning ahead?" Ron shook his head. "They're constantly in the future and can never act when needed, which is in the present. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Ron replied doubtfully, "but what skills do I have. I'm not very smart, I'm not very brave…my spell casting isn't even that good."

"I hear you're a very good chess player."

Ron puffed out his chest. "One of the best if I do say so myself. I haven't been beaten in ages."

"What is the most important skill in chess?"

"Strategy of course," Ron replied, looking at Dumbledore curiously, "Everyone knows that."

Dumbledore's expression suddenly turned sober and serious. "A war is coming Ronald Weasley and you know what needs to be done in the end."

"Harry has to kill Voldemort," Ron replied, "But what does that have to do with me."

"Think of it as a chess game," Dumbledore explained, "What would Voldemort be?"

"The king of the black pieces obviously," Ron answered quickly, "and his Death Eaters would be pawns, except for the more powerful ones of course. Malfoy would definitely be his queen!" Ron paused to think about what he'd just said and then started to laugh uproariously.

Dumbledore chuckled along with him. "I suppose he would be. But how would the pieces line up on our side."

The young wizard thought about the question for a few moments. "Well, I'd say you were in the king but you've already been taken out of the game which means the game should be over…but it's not."

"No," Dumbledore shook his head, "it's not. Imagine a chess game where object was not to take the king but to take all of the pieces. What would happen if the king was taken?"

"Not much," Ron replied, "The king can't move enough to be a real threat. Actually, giving up the king with the pawns would be a smart move, it would leave the queen free to move without having to worry about protecting the queen." Realization suddenly dawned on Ron and he looked up at Dumbledore. "Harry's the queen isn't he? He can move around where he likes while you were always stuck at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore nodded. "There is one thing every queen needs and that's a brave knight."

"I understand," Ron stated fiercely, "I've been the knight before."


	10. That Small Corner

_You dig down underground now  
Through the soil, through the cooling clay  
As the din fades above you  
You're moving  
You're secret  
You're nowhere  
It's all good_

The dirty, dingy little bar sat in the middle of London. If a muggle were to look at it, they'd see a rundown old building that looks as if it hasn't been used in some thirty or forty years. If a wizard were to look at it they'd see a rundown old building that looks as if it hasn't been used in some thirty or forty years…with a glowing firewhiskey sign in the window. Few wizards would dare enter the place; most didn't even know it exists, only the seedy underbelly of wizarding society like those who venture regularly into the darkest shadows of Knockturn Alley.

Inside the bar, in the farthest, darkest corner, a pile of dirty rags had taken up residence in one of the chairs. If one were to look closely they might see a grungy looking hand reach out to grab a glass of firewhiskey before quickly disappearing. No one gave much notice as a man wearing dark robes came to sit at the same table.

"Do you have it?" the man in dark robes whispered furtively.

The pile or rags shook as the other wizard gave a haggard cough. "I do."

"I wish to see it before we discuss payment."

"Expected that." From within the pile of filth came a hand and suspended form that hand was a locket.

"May I ask how you acquired it?" the man in the dark robes questioned, reaching out a hand to gently caress the beautiful piece of jewelry. "I only ask so that I might be assured of its authenticity."

"It's the real deal alright," the wizard chuckled, "No way to open it though. Don't know why you wanted it and don't care. Everything in that house was the darkest kind of evil and that kind of evil brings nothin' but trouble if you ask me."

"No one is asking you," the man snapped angrily, "I will take it and in return you will receive payment."

"And passage to the States."

"As agreed."

"Let's drink to a deal well done then."

"Or shall we drink to your cowardice in the face of danger."

The dirty wizard laughed loudly. "I prefer to think of it as having good survival instincts." He tipped his firewhiskey back and leveled the other man with a cold glare. "Of course you'd be knowing all about that now, wouldn't you?"

**dSz**

Harry sat watching as Hermione and Ron strolled leisurely around the lake. No one really felt like doing much of anything after their strange encounter with Dumbledore's will. No one spoke of what they saw or what was said, each kept their secrets to themselves. It was easy to see that everyone had been affected rather profoundly by the whole ordeal. Only Dumbledore's granddaughter had come through the door looking completely unfazed which still bothered Harry to no end. And then there were the glasses she came out wearing, Dumbledore's half-moon glasses.

"How dare she?" Harry grunted angrily to himself, kicking his foot and sending dirt flying in all directions.

"You wouldn't be talking about me, would you?"

Spinning in surprise, Harry's balance left him and he fell ungracefully onto the ground. Rowena gave a small laugh, reaching out a hand to help him up. He pushed her hand away angrily and lifted himself up on his own.

"I don't need your help," Harry growled, turning away from her and sitting down on the large boulder once again. The same boulder that he and Dumbledore had sat upon after he went through the door.

"I know you don't," Rowena replied calmly, "but I do need a place to sit, do you mind?" Without waiting for an answer the witch sat down next to Harry, right in the spot that Dumbledore had occupied.

"Stop looking at me."

"Where should I look?"

"I don't know," Harry grunted, "Just don't look at me."

"Why?"

"Because you're wearing his glasses…it's unnerving." A soft sound of metal hitting against metal caused Harry to turn to look at the older girl. The glasses were gone and she looked at him directly with her twinkling blue eyes.

There is something odd about those eyes, Harry thought to himself as he continued to stare. Something that he just couldn't put his finger on. Suddenly he felt an odd sensation, as if someone were poking his mind with a stick. Without thinking he did his best to throw up an Occlumency shield, wondering if Rowena was somehow trying to break into his thoughts. The look of confusion on her face saying otherwise.

"Do I have a boogie or something?" Rowena asked, self-consciously covering her nose with one hand.

"A what?" Harry chuckled lightheartedly. Her comment seemed to have broken the uncomfortable tension between them, or at least the uncomfortable tension that Harry felt around her. He doubted whether Rowena had ever felt tension in her life.

"A boogie, booger, nose gold…I don't know, what do you people call it?"

"A boogie will do find," Harry stated with a grin, "and no, you don't have one. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, it's just your eyes…"

"Are like his," Rowena finished.

Harry nodded and then looked out over the lake. "I can't believe you never got the chance to meet him."

"Stinks, don't it. Everyone keeps telling me what a great guy he was."

"He was," Harry replied morosely.

"Maybe to you," Rowena said, a small bit of scorn in her tone, "but he wasn't so great to me. I think he was a jerk."

Harry's head snapped around as if Voldemort himself had tapped him on the shoulder. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about? Dumbledore was a great wizard! He did so much for so many people! He defeated dark wizards and worked hard to fight against Voldemort."

Rowena nodded in understanding. "Great wizard, bad grandpa."

"I suppose you're right about that one."

"But it was different for you, wasn't it?" Rowena continued, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You two had a great relationship. It was like you were his grandson. Everyone keeps saying how hurt you must be and how close you two were. I suppose his real granddaughter wasn't good enough so instead he adopted a famous and powerful wizard instead. Who would want boring old Rowena anyway? Boring Rowena who lives in the States and probably can't even do magic. Well I didn't want him anyway. I was perfectly happy without him and I'll never forgive him for what he put my mother through and for taking my father away."

Harry watched as Rowena stomped her way up the front steps and into the castle. He didn't notice when Ron and Hermione came to stand next to him.

"What was that all about?" Hermione questioned.

"Rowena's angry with me. She thinks that Dumbledore thought of me as his grandson while he forgot all about her. She thinks it's because I'm famous and powerful."

"But she's Dumbledore's granddaughter!" Ron guffawed, "You know she's got to be powerful." With a sigh Harry removed his glasses and showed them to his two friends. Both lenses had cracks running through their middles.

"Well one thing's for sure," Harry said as Hermione fixed his glasses for what seemed to be the thousandth time, "She's definitely a witch."

**dSz**

Draco kicked a stack of books over as he trudged through the library. He was angry. Snape had disappeared again and left him only a note stating what books he should study. I'm sick of studying, the young wizard thought to himself, kicking over another pile of books. Draco didn't want to sit on the sidelines anymore; he wanted to be out with the other Death Eaters, going on daring raids and currying the Dark Lord's favor. Instead he failed and now he is being punished.

If only he would have killed Dumbledore, but he couldn't, that was the problem. There was something about the defeated look in the old wizard's eyes that caused him to stop. Draco knows he's not an evil wizard; he only wants pureblood society to regain its rightful place in the magical world. Why do Dumbledore and his muggle loving group have to cause such a stir?

"It should have been Potter," Draco growled while hurling a book across the room.

He could have killed Potter. Draco knows that he could have killed the golden boy, but Dumbledore…that was different. The crazy old wizard had always treated Draco like everyone else. Dumbledore always saw the good in everyone, always gave everyone a second chance and that's what got him killed.

A small place in Draco's heart sat apart from the rest. It was a place that Draco decided he would put all of the deaths which caused him pain. Thinking of Dumbledore caused him pain so he tucked Dumbledore away in that small place in his heart. It was something he had to allow himself. He is not a monster after all.

Others would go there as well, some surprised even Draco himself. Remus Lupin, the third year Defense teacher, Draco knows that eventually he will be killed. The kind old werewolf will go to that special place. The man was always fair and Draco could find nothing truly offensive about him, he had just chosen the wrong side.

Little Ginny Weasley, Draco's first crush, would go there as well. Draco always admired that girl's stubbornness and will, so much like fire, just like a her blazing hair. Other school mates would end up next to her. Longbottom and Lovegood, maybe even a few Hufflepuffs. They could all keep Cedric company in that small spot in Draco's cold, black heart. The small corner carved out, a place where even the Dark Lord wouldn't find them.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I haven't been the best at updating but I have more time now and I think I'll be able to change that. Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated, everyone write more fanfiction. We'll need it after the seventh book is out. ;)**


	11. What Happened

_And no lights lead you onwards  
And no signs point you on your way  
Just earth in all directions  
It's endless  
It's mapless  
No compass  
No north star  
_

Rufus Scrimgeour sat in his office. A clock chimed somewhere in the distance foretelling the sunrise. The Minister rubbed his aching brow and opened the next file folder. A small stack of paper sat fluttering in the breeze in front of him. He glared at it for a moment before angrily pushing it and everything else on his desk off onto the floor.

"What?" he whispered, staring down at his hands in shock. The stress must be catching up with him, he'd never done anything like that before.

Rufus wasn't one for outbursts and dramatics. The whole of the wizarding world know him as someone who is steadfast and responsible, loyal and even-minded. He sighed and began picking up his things. If only all those wizards and witches could see him now, a wreck.

A tapping at the window caused no reaction in the man. He was so used to the sound that he almost missed it. Dropping the papers he'd retrieved, he crossed the length of his office and opened the window. A very agitated brown owl flew in with a large white envelope tied to its leg. Somehow it dropped its burden on Rufus' desk with no help from the man whatsoever and then took off through the open window.

Curious, Rufus cautiously picked up the envelope, reading the return address with some surprise. "Albus," he stammered, his expression turning to one of surprise and confusion. Slowly he walked around the large mahogany desk and then slumped into his high backed leather chair.

_Hello Rufus._

The first two words caused the Minister to feel a sudden nervousness. Without thinking he glanced around the room, a small part of him wondering if the departed Headmaster would suddenly pop out from behind one of his curtains and yell 'Surprise!'. Rufus shook his head at his own foolishness and continued to read.

_Hello Rufus. Merlin, you must be surprised! I would wager that the whole wizarding world is sharing in your surprise. Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of our age, dead!_

Rufus nodded as if the dead man was actually conversing with him.

_Death is not the end my friend. That's all I wish to say on that subject._

_The more important thing to remember is that, contrary to popular opinion, I am not the most powerful wizard of our age. I never was. Wisest perhaps, or most experienced, but never the most powerful. Voldemort may fear me but he is more powerful then I. Why did he fear me then you may ask? Perception is everything. He perceived me to be a larger threat then I was and that flawed perception was what kept him at bay for such a long time._

_Who is the most powerful wizard then? I would think the answer would be obvious. A young seventeen year old wizard who will need all the help he can get. I ask you to give him that help. Do not hinder him Rufus, you will only regret it._

_Harry doesn't need Ministry control. Harry doesn't need the wizarding world to look at him as if he holds their lives in his hands. Harry needs someone to train him and teach him. I have abandoned him and he is not ready._

_Help him Rufus._

Rufus paused for a moment wondering if the former Headmaster had been mad before he died. Potter hated him, how in the world would he be able to help the boy?

_Harry does hold their lives in his hands. I tell you this with a certainty. I can't explain how I know, I only ask that you trust this as fact._

The Minister reread the last lines three more times, a sick feeling welling up inside his gut. He'd always had a feeling that the boy was important, hell…so did the rest of the world, but to have it confirmed by Dumbledore himself, to have it so concrete. Rufus swallowed tightly and suddenly felt small and insignificant.

_We've had our differences but I've always respected you Rufus._

Rufus swallowed tightly again, his eyes watering slightly.

_The war does not matter, the Death Eaters insignificant, the Aurors merely distraction, it will only come down to the two or so Voldemort thinks. He is as egotistical as would be expected considering he is the last heir of Slytherin but he forgets that it wasn't only Godric who drove Salazar out of Hogwarts._

The Minister's jaw fell open. Were the heirs out there somewhere? Would they help if called upon? Was this what Dumbledore was trying to tell him?

_Do not go looking for help, it is out there watching and waiting. When the times comes, Harry must be ready for it must be him and only him that strikes the last final blow._

_Help him Rufus._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. Hogwarts will need a new Professor of Defense and Potions. I ask that you assist the Deputy Headmistress in finding someone suitable. Minerva will look after things until the next Headmaster or Headmistress is chosen._

That was the end. Rufus flipped the parchment over but the back was completely blank. He slammed the letter down onto his desk and glared at it with an expression of steely resolve. It was time for the Ministry to do something that would really count.

"Get me Auror Tonks," he ground out to his secretary.

"At once Minister," a confused voice replied.

**dSz**

Lucius Malfoy stared down at his dirty covered hands. The glow of pale skin was all gone now, painted over by something gruesome and black. These are my hands, Lucius reminded himself for the hundredth time, these are my hands. His fingers folded in turning his hands into fists and he glared at them. These are my fists, he told himself for the hundredth time, these are mine.

He was entertaining thoughts again, thoughts that he knew he shouldn't even be acknowledging. If the Dark Lord were to find out once he was broken out of here, well, it wouldn't be a pretty sight. If anyone ever came to get him, to save him. A low chuckle escaped the depressed wizard. Who would save him? If the Dark Lord did come to get him, then only torture would follow. Lucius knew that the Dark Lord would use him as a lesson and a warning.

"How did this happen?" he questioned the empty cell. No wizard had as much as he, a beautiful and cultured wife, an intelligent son, and enough money and power to last until the ends of his days. "And now," he spoke aloud, "nothing."

It had all seemed so simple. Purebloods should rule the world because purebloods…are purebloods. Was that it? Lucius frowned to himself. Perhaps he couldn't remember after all this time in isolated silence. Too much thinking had made him forget who he was, that had to be it. A laugh escaped him, becoming louder by the second until it changed to a wailing.

Lucius lay his head in his hands and wept. These are my hands, he reminded himself for the hundredth time, these are my hands.

**dSz**

"I think I better get down there," Ron told Harry as he hovered next to him, "Hermione will be cross if I stay up here all day."

"I suppose so," Harry admitted with an amused grin, "I'll see you later then mate."

Ron smiled and a moment later he was flying down to his girlfriend where she waited in the stands. Hermione shielded her eyes with one hand and waved at Harry with the other. Harry gave an enthusiastic wave in return but his smile didn't match the feeling of the gesture. Luckily his friends were too far away to notice.

The sun felt good on his face as he raced around the pitch and soon he was truly smiling. After about an hour Harry began to feel strange. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he suddenly felt as if he was being watched. Trying not to be obvious, he glanced around and noticed a lone figure sitting in the stands. His stomach clenched tightly as he realized who it was.

"I'm sorry," she said as soon as he landed next to her, "I shouldn't have said those things. I'm usually not like that."

Harry gave Rowena an encouraging smile as she reached up to take off her glasses. "Leave them on," he said and she glanced up in surprise. "They suit you." She smiled and pushed the half-moon glasses back on her nose.

"I think so too," she admitted, "I am sorry. I don't know why I suddenly got so jealous. I never even knew him."

"I'm sorry you never knew him," Harry replied solemnly, "He was a good wizard. I'm sure there's some reason that he didn't want you here. Probably to keep you safe."

"I suppose I shouldn't be sitting here with you," Rowena chuckled, poking Harry in the side.

"I suppose not."

"I'm just kidding," Rowena said quickly, worried that the boy might take her joke seriously. "Do you think you could teach me how to fly on one of those?" She asked, pointing to his broomstick.

"You bet," Harry replied, "I can take you for a fly right now if you want."

"That would be awesome!" Rowena exclaimed. "What do I do?"

Harry mounted his Firebolt. "Just sit down behind me and hold on. I'll start out slow."

Without hesitation Rowena hopped on the back of Harry's broom and wrapped her arms around his middle. "Is this okay?" she asked shyly, causing Harry to blush.

"Its fine," he replied before pushing off. Soon they were flying slowly around the pitch.

"Can we go faster?"

"You bet." Harry flashed an evil grin and leaned forward.

**dSz**

The door creaked angrily causing Hermione to cringe. She'd left Ron with Dudley in the Gryffindor common room. Dudley had become very interested in wizard's chess after watching a match between Ron and herself, it was the perfect time for Hermione to sneak away.

The portraits eyed her as she made her way across the Headmaster's office. Taking a large breath she held down her emotions and looked up to see Dumbledore giving her a curious look. It turned into one of unease as Hermione began to run her hands around the portrait's frame.

She circled the portrait like a cat, eyeing it for anything strange. "There's got to be something," she muttered coming to stand in front of the departed Headmaster once more. "I don't know if you can even hear me," she stated, "but if you can then you should know something." Leaning close to Dumbledore's painted visage she whispered. "I'm on to you."


	12. Magic Is

_You're all gone cause they can't find you  
You're lost cause they don't know the way  
They blame themselves they blame each other  
They're angry  
They're sorry  
They're worried  
You don't care _

_The shovels scrape somewhere up there  
They just want to know if you're OK  
Morse code tapped with hammers  
You hear it  
You know it  
Ignore it  
You're on your way_

The curse raced across the Great Hall, straight at the black haired young man. He brought up a shield and watched in dismay as the curse simply slipped through as if his shield wasn't even there. A split-second later he found himself lying on the floor idly looking up at the clouds as they passed.

"Come on Harry," Tonks chided, "I know you can do better than this. We've only got a week before term starts and then I won't be able to spend as much time with you anymore. We need to make the most of it so get your head straight."

Harry brushed off his jeans. "I'm trying," he grumbled.

"You curse me this time. Something simple, like Expelliarmus." Harry nodded in reply and waited for Tonks to give him the signal.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted.

Tonks waited for the spell to hit her but merely felt a tingle. She gave a quizzical look. His spells seemed to be getting weaker and weaker. That last spell had been nearly squib worthy.

"Are you even trying?"

"I am!" Harry urged, "I don't know what's wrong."

At the back of the hall Hermione sat with a book in her hands, a look of contemplation on her face. She and Ron had been watching Tonks duel with Harry for weeks and things seemed to be getting worse everyday. For some reason Harry's magic seemed to be disappearing. She glanced over at Ron and saw a small grin.

"What do you know?" she whispered.

"I've got an idea." Before she could question him more, he was already halfway across the room. Harry looked somewhat nervous as Ron approached him, almost as if he knew where this was going.

"I am trying Ron. I don't know what the problem is."

"I do," Ron replied, suddenly pointing his wand at Harry's feet. "Incendio!"

"Aguamenti!" Harry shouted without thinking.

A huge jet of water shot from Harry's wand, putting out the fire and flooding the Great Hall. By the time Harry cancelled the spell, the water was up to their ankles. Hermione's mouth frowned in concentration as she took in the scene, still confused as to what had just happened.

"How long mate?" Ron asked in a conversational tone.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, clearly disappointed. "Since the end of last year." Hermione's head shot up at that. The end of last year, when Dumbledore was murdered, or supposedly murdered, by Snape, how very interesting.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I was embarrassed," Harry replied sheepishly, "and I didn't want it to get out." Ron gripped his shoulders supportively. "I'm afraid Ron. Why can't I ever be normal?"

"Look at me," Ron chided, "Do I look normal? A freckled redhead who loves a Quidditch team that never wins. And then there's Hermione."

"A nosy, know-it-all bookworm," Hermione put in helpfully as she came over to stand next to Ron.

"I'm sure there's a reason for this," Tonks said, "You'll just have to practice putting less power into your spells. Why don't you try levitating that table over there?" She vanished the water and pointed to a table off to Harry's left.

"Wingardium Leviosa." This time Harry tried to get the spell to work without putting as much power into it. The table lifted about an inch and then dropped again.

"Try again," Tonks commanded in a tone that reminded Harry he was not allowed to ever give up.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted, putting much more force behind the spell.

The results were amazing. The table shot to the ceiling and broke apart as it hit one of the supports. Everything else in the room, including Hermione, Ron and Tonks, lifted about a foot and then fell. Hermione grabbed her mouth as her stomach gave a lurch.

"Well that was…interesting," Tonks stammered shakily.

**DSz**

"I think I got it!" Rowena exclaimed happily.

Flitwick watched the feather hover above his head. "I've never seen a levitation spell cause something to spin that way."

Rowena giggled. "I think it's funny."

The feather spun in lazy circles as Rowena directed it around the room. After a few minutes she got bored with the feather and decided to levitate something else as well. Flitwick merely watched in silence as a few books floated into the air, spinning the same way as the feather. He wanted to tell her how difficult it is to levitate more than one item at once, especially doing them one at a time but he worried that if he did then she wouldn't be able to do it anymore.

An angry hissing noise was heard as a spinning Mrs. Norris floated over the Professor's head. His eyes widened in surprise as he did a quick double take. Rowena laughed loudly as the books and the cat began to circle the still spinning feather like some kind of strange solar system.

"Mrs. Norris!" Filch exclaimed, quickly stomping into the room and plucking his cat out of the air.

"O my!" Flitwick exclaimed as a very unhappy Filch, holding a thoroughly peeved off Mrs. Norris, did a cartwheel across the ceiling. "Perhaps we should move on. It seems you have a good grasp of Wingardium Leviosa."

Rowena merely smiled, her eyes twinkling behind her half moon glasses. "I don't think I've ever felt so alive. Magic is the best thing in the world."

**DSz**

Snape pulled himself onto his bed, his nerves still tingling painfully from the effects of the Cruciatus curse. His mind seemed to have turned to jello because he couldn't remember where he had left the calming potion. He swiped a shaky hand over his bedside table and found it to be empty. A groan escaped him.

"Here sir."

A voice seemed to come from nowhere and a mysterious vial was at his lips. He closed them automatically, not so far gone that he would blindly drink an unknown potion from some stranger. A sigh of frustration was heard and the vial removed.

"Professor Snape, it's Draco."

What is Draco doing here? He should be at school, Severus thought wearily. He opened his mouth to question his Godson and suddenly the vial was back and the mysterious potion flowed easily down his throat. The taste was unmistakable and he sighed in relief as his nerves finally began to still.

"Tha…you." The words wouldn't come right, his mind just too groggy to form anything coherent.

"No problem sir," Draco replied quietly, his brow creasing worriedly.

In the pale candlelight he could make out the dark mark on Snape's forearm. It writhed and pulsed causing Draco to shudder involuntarily. He rolled up the sleeve on his robes and looked at his own pale skin. A memory suddenly flashed in his mind. He was in the common room with Pansy and they'd just played a prank on Goyle. A smile lit the young Slytherin's face as more memories surfaced. Quidditch games, Hogsmeade weekends, fights with the Gryffindors, lessons…

Draco's throat suddenly felt tight and scratchy. He put those thoughts out of his mind and continued to watch over his Godfather. The night came and the small room became dark. He shivered as the last candle burned to the wick, but made no effort to light another.


	13. Plain Old Dumb Luck

_But at some point you've gotta come up for air  
You wipe the rocks and mud and dirt out of your hair  
You're blind and queasy with a growing sense of despair  
You don't know anyone_

You look around trying to find someone you know  
You put your hand up in the air   
You kinda wave hello  
But if they do care, oh, they're not letting it show  
This can't be new to you

The Great Hall was eerily quiet as Harry and his friends ate lunch. Harry was in a poor mood. In two days the new school year would start and his time with Tonks would be cut in half. To make matters worse, he still was unable to control his magic. It was becoming very frustrating, not just for Harry, but for everyone else as well. Ron tried to cheer the boy up and Hermione did her best to research the problem, but as the days passed, the mood in the castle dropped lower and lower.

"I haven't seen your Aunt and Uncle in awhile?" Hermione commented, attempting to make light conversation.

"McGonagall moved them from Gryffindor tower a few days ago. I haven't seen them since then. I think she mentioned something about some empty rooms on the fifth floor." Harry pushed his mashed potatoes around on his plate. "They're really interested in magic now, even Uncle Vernon."

"Most muggles would be, wouldn't they?" Ron questioned. "Magic can do a lot of great things."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Or bad things. They haven't seen how bad it can be."

"Rowena's spells are coming along." Hermione tried changing the subject. "I spoke to Professor Flitwick and he said that she shows a lot of potential, once she learns to control herself. Apparently she sent Filch spinning across the ceiling."

Pumpkin juice sprayed across the table. "Ron!" Hermione huffed indignantly. "It's not that funny."

Harry's eyes glazed over as Hermione and Ron began to squabble. He wondered what would happen if he never learned to control his magic. It would be good in a way. One well placed blasting curse and Voldemort would be a fine dust, but what about after? The wizarding world would be difficult to live in, but Harry had no urge to return to the muggle world.

Just as Hermione had finally stopped scolding Ron the fireplace suddenly flared to life. All three teenagers had their wands out in seconds. They're jaws dropped as a group of twenty uniformed men and women quickly stepped through, forming tight ranks. It was Hermione that recognized the uniforms first.

"American soldiers," she hissed in Harry's ear. Ron heard her as well but their wands remained out and at the ready.

A black-haired, middle-aged man with a chiseled jaw stepped forward. Before he could speak, he was interrupted by a shout from the doorway. "What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall exclaimed angrily as she rushed to stand between the students and the soldiers.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall?" The man questioned.

"I am Professor McGonagall."

"Sergeant Major Owens," the man stated, "U.S. Marines."

"What in the world are you doing here and how did you get through the floo?"

"Access was granted by the late Headmaster Dumbledore. Is there somewhere private we can discuss the details of our assignment here?"

"Of course," she replied tightly, "The Headmaster's office is not being used."

"Thank you Ma'am. Please lead the way. First Sergeant Woolford, you and the rest of the platoon will remain here until I return."

"Yes Sir!" A seasoned looking red-haired witch responded swiftly.

McGonagall began to lead Owens out but he paused in the doorway. "Is there a problem?" She questioned curiously.

"Would you ask your students to stand down please? I'd hate for one of them to get hurt. My people are trained to react quickly to any threat."

"I assure you Sergeant Owens," McGonagall said with a sly grin, "these three can handle themselves. Follow me please."

The door shut with a loud bang, leaving the three students warily watching the nineteen soldiers. Harry found himself very curious about the large staffs that each soldier was carrying. Each also had a wand on their right hip and a pistol on their left. Instead of wizard or witch hats, the hats they wore were purely muggle.

"Are you from America's magical government then?" Ron asked the stoic looking group.

"There is only one government of the United States of America," Sergeant Woolford replied steadily.

"Marines, right?" Hermione asked. "I think I recognize the uniform."

"Correct ma'am." Woolford adjusted her staff and Hermione noticed that the group looked very uncomfortable.

"Put your wands down you two," she commanded as she put her own into the front pocket of her robe.

Woolford sighed in relief. "Sit down everyone," she urged, "Let's take a load off until Sergeant Owens comes back."

"What's the staff for?" Ron asked, gazing at the ancient looking wood curiously.

"More power," Woolford replied, "We can fit at least five cores in one and we can do group spells. Stop giving me that look Aldwin, none of this is confidential. Who are you kids anyway? Shouldn't you be at home for summer vacation?"

"Hermione Granger," Hermione stated, "my boyfriend Ronald Weasley and our friend Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter!" Woolford gasped, along with a few of the other soldiers.

"Should we salute or something?" A nervous looking young wizard asked from the other end of the table.

"Please don't," Harry groaned worriedly, "I'm nothing special, really."

"Yeah, he's only took on You-Know-Who a few times, killed a basilisk when he was twelve and drove off about a hundred Dementors at once, no big deal," Ron commented in the most deadpan tone he could muster.

"Ron," Harry hissed dangerously.

"You killed a basilisk! When you were twelve! Wow, how'd you do it?" Woolford asked and the rest of the soldiers moved in closer to hear Harry's answer.

"I had help. Fawkes, he's a phoenix, brought me the sorting hat. I pulled out Gryffindor's sword and then fought the…well, I guess that does sound pretty harrowing…doesn't it?" Hermione patted Harry's hand supportively.

"So what's in your staff?" Ron questioned, an idea forming in his mind.

"Unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, basilisk scale and mandrake root."

"Mandrake root? I didn't know that could be used as a core." Hermione commented.

Woolford nodded. "Not by itself, but the staff has to have a plant core. I'm not an expert on staff making but I think it's to keep the other cores from interacting with one another."

"That would make sense," Hermione hummed to herself, tapping her chin.

"Where can someone get a staff?" Ron asked.

"Military issue only as far as I know. I'm sure there are some on the black market somewhere but they wouldn't do anyone much good. Each staff is custom made for the wizard or witch who will be using it."

"Why's that?" Ron and Harry asked at the same time.

A few of the soldiers exchanged worried looks. "Hey kid," Woolford said seriously, "Don't get any ideas. You get a staff that's incompatible with your wand and you'll end up blowing yourself up to kingdom come."

**DSz**

The door to the Headmaster's office was open when McGonagall arrived and she was surprised to find Remus Lupin sitting at the desk, hunched over a large pile of paperwork. His brow was furrowed in concentration and McGonagall hated to have to interrupt.

"I'm sorry Remus. I didn't think you'd be here until tonight."

"Sorry Minerva, just wanted to get a good start on some of these filings."

"You're help is greatly appreciated. Let me introduce you to Sergeant Owens of the United States Marine Corps." Remus' eyes widened in surprise and she could immediately see that he hadn't known anything about this strange development. "He just arrived through the floo with a group of soldiers."

"Soldiers? But why? How did you get through the floo?"

"All of this is on a need to know basis and I was instructed to speak of the details only with Professor Minerva McGonagall."

"Well I'm changing your orders," Minerva stated matter-of-factly. "Anything I need to know, Remus certainly needs to know. Now please take a seat."

The two of them sat down across from Remus. He quickly summoned a house elf and requested fresh tea. His had gone cold hours ago and he hadn't even noticed.

"Don't work too hard Remus," Minerva chided softly, "I'm going to need all the help I can get this coming year." She then fixed Owens with a menacing glare. "Now, Sergeant Owens, what exactly is your reason for being here?"

"First, I would like to say how sorry I was to hear of Professor Dumbledore's death. I met the man several times and found him to be quite an interesting wizard." Remus snorted into his tea. "I'd also like to pass on condolences from the United States of America and the President himself."

"Albus knew the President?" Minerva questioned, eyes growing wide.

"Apparently they did a lot of ten-pin bowling before the most recent trouble started. It was Professor Dumbledore that asked for assistance if anything should happen to him. He gave us access to your floo system and also blueprints of the castle, although they will need to be updated, and a map of the surrounding area. The presence of my platoon will not be a secret since we will be providing security for the students but I must inform you that we are building a command post in the forest and we have roughly two hundred soldiers stationed there."

"Most people do not know much about the military's magical forces," Owens continued. "We have our own Air Force."

"Brooms I suspect," Remus interrupted and Owens nodded in reply.

"Also dragons and carpets," Owens added. "I assure you that we will not be using dragons for this operation," he amended at seeing their worried expressions. "Unless it becomes necessary. While the force inside Hogwarts takes care of security, the forest division will concentrate on information gathering."

"Two hundred people," Remus scoffed, "you've got to be doing more than just gathering information."

"I have also been ordered to see to the training of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. While we do not usually train teenagers, we will make an exception in this case."

"Would you like me to call them up here so you can speak to them?" Remus questioned.

Owens shook his head. "I will discuss this matter with them privately." He put up a hand to stall their complaints. "This is an order I cannot break."

"I'll call them up and Minerva and I will leave."

"Not good enough. There are portraits here," he explained, eyeing the paintings warily.

**DSz**

"Woolford!" Owens shouted forcefully. Woolford and the rest of the soldiers snapped to their feet. "Take everyone down to the dungeons. Professor McGonagall says there are empty rooms there. I want a full sweep before any of you rest."

"Yes Sir!" The group chorused.

"You must be Mr. Potter," Owens stated as he held out a weathered hand. Harry shook it hesitantly. "Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger," he added, shaking each of their hands in turn. "I must speak to the three of you privately. Do you know of a place where we will not be overheard?"

"The common room," Ron suggested but Owens shook his head.

"Too many portraits."

"I know exactly the place," Hermione stated assuredly.

They strolled up to the Room of Requirement. Hermione pointed out various sites along the way like Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and the different classrooms. Owens seemed particularly interested in the Chamber of Secrets and Harry promised that he would take the man down to see it before the start of school.

"Wouldn't want to go there with students around," Harry explained, "If anyone found out it'd be like second year all over again with all those Heir of Slytherin rumors."

The Room of Requirement was setup perfectly. Four comfortable armchairs, a coffee table complete with tea service and a softly crackling fire. Owens walked around the room once before taking a chair.

"Thank you," Owens said as Ron handed him a cup. "I'd like to commend you on your reaction time when we came through the floo. There aren't many people who know how to react in an unusual situation."

The three of them chuckled. "We definitely know how to deal with unusual situations," Hermione replied slyly.

"What do you need to talk to us about?" Harry asked, getting right to the point.

"Horcruxes," Owens replied and then took another sip of tea to allow his response to sink in.

"But how do you…"

"Professor Dumbledore spoke to us about them," Owens replied, "He thought you could use the help."

"But he told me not to tell anyone," Harry argued.

Owens nodded. "And it was good he did. The Ministry of Magic can't be trusted and I wouldn't trust any…other group either." Harry and his friends shared a look. Obviously the Sergeant was talking about the Order.

"So how do you plan on helping us?" Hermione questioned, not even attempting to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

"It was explained that only you," he pointed to Harry, "can destroy Voldemort. That does not mean that you can't have help. The Marines are a highly respected and highly professional organization Mr. Potter; we are not a bunch of rag tag aurors. I have over two hundred men and women, magical and non-magical, in the Forbidden Forest. As we speak they are working to uncover information as to the whereabouts of all remaining horcruxes."

"Blimey," Ron mumbled.

"So you're commanding the soldiers that came through the floo then?" Hermione asked.

Owens nodded. "For now."

"For now?" Harry questioned in confusion. "How long will that be?"

"Until you're ready."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief.

"Well, I will officially still be in command, but I'm going to level with you kid." Owens looked him straight in the eye. "My people just don't have the experience. All of them started out as normal soldiers in non-magical combat situations. They were bumped up due to magical ability but they've got no experience at this kind of thing. We've taken care of small pockets of dark wizards but most of our experience is fighting magical creatures."

"But you look so professional," Ron interrupted, "Like you've seen it all."

"I'm sure that's what those rookies downstairs think," Owens scoffed, "but my father told me stories of Grindewald and I know my men aren't ready for something like that. Albus told me that you commanded a group of students called 'Dumbledore's Army'."

"Defense Association," all three spoke at once.

"Well whatever you want to call it, it doesn't matter." Owens waved his hand dismissively. "The point is, you've got experience fighting dark wizards. You know how to think on your toes and lead at the same time."

"But a lot of it was just dumb luck," Harry replied.

"Most things are a matter of dumb luck," Owens responded calmly, "It's knowing how to take advantage of that…that's what counts."


	14. Hook, Line and Sinker

This is not good, not good at all, thought Vernon as he slowly made his way through the shadowed corridor. It was obvious now that he had stepped off on the wrong landing. Unfortunately he didn't realize this until he'd turned a couple corners and gotten completely lost. A small jolt of excitement ran through him mixed with a large amount of nervousness. He thought back to the Grand Staircase and realized that he must have mistakenly gone to the third floor instead of the fifth, where the Dursley's new rooms were located.

"Buck up Vernon," he commanded, "Remember your days in the scouts. You can take care of yourself."

A small internal voice reminded him that he was currently in a magical school full of all sorts of strange things like ghosts and poltergeists. Vernon suddenly wished that his nephew was here with him. Hagrid, the gigantic man who tended the grounds, told him what Harry had done in the past, how he had saved people and battled dark wizards. His eyes, full of hope, scanned the corridor behind him, imaging the young man stepping out of the shadows, a magical glow from that stick of his cutting through the darkness.

The corridor remained empty and Vernon sighed. He started walking again but something caught his attention. An ancient looking door stood off to his right. Covered in cobwebs and dust it looked as if it hadn't been used in quite some time. Curiosity getting the better of him, Vernon gave the handle a weak pull. Surprisingly enough the door swung open easily, hinges making no sound at all. Vernon gave the door a suspicious look. Obviously it was being used but someone wanted it to look as if it wasn't.

Vernon slowly took a step through the doorway and a chill immediately ran down his spine. The room was completely empty except for an old harp sitting in the corner and a trapdoor in the middle of the floor. He took a step toward the trapdoor and felt something brush against his shoulder.

"Who's there?!" he shouted, jumping back in surprise.

A quiet whisper of rustling fabric was the only reply. Vernon's skin crawled and he suddenly felt as if a million invisible eyes were upon him. Without fanfare the trapdoor opened abruptly, there was a flash of red and then the trapdoor slammed shut, lock clicking into place.

Vernon ran away, his portly legs moving swifter then they ever had before. It took him a minute to realize where he was when he finally made it back to the Grand Staircase. He thought about telling his nephew or that McGonagall woman what he'd seen but decided against it. They're most likely used to these types of strange occurrences, he thought to himself, heading up to his cozy bed on the fifth floor.

**dSz**

Rowena stepped out of the Room of Requirement. For the last hour she'd been going in and out of the room, seeing how many different rooms she could make it change into. So far she'd been unable to trip it up, even when she'd thought of one thing for a long time and then quickly thought of something else while opening the door.

This time she decided to clear her mind and think of nothing at all. She stood outside the door for a moment, breathing deeply. With one final exhale she pushed open the door and opened her eyes. Expecting to see nothing, she was surprised to find a room full of junk. It was like some kind of unorganized lost and found.

She carefully made her way inside, eyeing the stacks of books, brooms and other assorted items. "Wow!" She exclaimed as she noticed a beautiful jeweled tiara lying amongst a pile of old cloaks. With trembling fingers she picked it up and eyed it critically. "Definitely costume," she stated in disappointment, tossing it off into another pile.

Rummaging through a large pile of ancient looking books she felt as if her hands were drawing her toward one book in particular. It had a plain black cover and wasn't very thick. There was nothing extraordinary about it. Flopping down on the pile of old cloaks she flipped it open to the first page and began to read. Her eyes widened in surprise as she realized exactly what the book was about.

It was Rowena Ravenclaw's journal and it described every step in the process of constructing Hogwarts. Rowena sat there for two hours, reading the entire thing from front cover to back. Once she finished she sat in silence, lost in her thoughts. She didn't even notice when a ghost floated into the room. It was the Gray Lady.

"Is it true?" She asked the ghost.

"It is," the Gray Lady replied solemnly.

"Who else knows?"

"He knows." There was no need to explain which "he" she was speaking of.

"That's why he wants Hogwarts. He'll use it as a weapon," Rowena stated and the ghost nodded in agreement. Rowena stepped over to the fireplace that suddenly appeared and tossed the journal into the hungry flames. The ghost looked on silently. "Did my grandfather know as well?"

"Yes. The Headmaster or Headmistress always knows."

"McGonagall?" I questioned. The Gray Lady shook her head.

"Hogwarts must never fall," the ghost added in a somber tone. Rowena nodded in silent agreement.

**dSz**

"Come in Severus," Voldemort hissed. He was seated in front of the fire, a glass of fire whiskey in one hand.

Severus entered the room and closed the door behind him. As he moved to kneel before his Lord, Voldemort motioned for him to stop. A look of confusion washed over Snape. Was the Dark Lord angry with him?

"No, I am not angry with you," Voldemort answered. "Although it is good to see concern on your face. Many of my followers no longer seem concerned with pleasing me. But not you Severus, you have always been something more than the usual rabble."

"Please take a seat," he continued, motioning to the chair next to him, "and pour yourself a glass. I wish to converse with you as we did in the days before my first downfall."

Severus did as his Lord commanded. Surprised by the other man's sudden personality change. It reminded Severus of how charismatic the Dark Lord could be if he so wished. "I am honored my Lord."

"You have always had good instincts Severus, even when you were just a young man. You urged me not to go after the Potters until the prophecy was known in its entirety but I acted anyway. Then you asked me to spare Potter's mudblood mother and I did attempt to but became easily frustrated by her defense of her son. Look how it all turned out my friend." Voldemort gestured to his face and body.

"Now I am weak and I must wait for my power to return to me, while the Potter boy becomes stronger every day. If I would have listened to you Severus, then things would have turned out differently."

Severus cleared his throat and was very careful in his reply. "You did what you thought was the best course of action at the time. No one had any idea that the events would unfold as they did. Considering the fact that we did not know the full contents of the prophecy, it was anyone's guess as to what might happen." The worm was already on the hook and Severus just dropped the line.

"Yes, the prophecy. I have wondered if that hasn't played a part in Potter's good luck from the start," admitted Voldemort. Severus grinned mentally, knowing that the Dark Lord had just taken the bait. Now time to set the hook.

"I have wondered," Severus paused, consciously fixing his expression into one of doubt.

"Yes Severus, do not be afraid to speak your ideas with me. I long to hear them."

"If perhaps you and Potter are not truly meant to destroy one another. The prophecy merely says 'the one with the power to vanquish', it does not say that he's destined to vanquish."

"And the Dark Lord will make him as equal…" Voldemort whispered, voice trailing off.

"It's a pity I wasn't able to hear more," Severus stated sadly.

"Perhaps," Voldemort began, eyes slitted in contemplation, "Perhaps we are not meant to defeat each other. Perhaps he is my equal. I should have taken him as a babe and raised him as my own. I was too impetuous, thinking there was no time for planning."

"We have a connection now," he continued, "If I were to attack him…"

"It would be like attacking part of yourself," Severus added.

"Exactly!" The Dark Lord explained. "Why didn't I see this before?! This would explain why Dumbledore never trained the boy to fight me. He knew that if we fought, it wouldn't matter who defeated who, we'd both be destroyed in the end. The old man would do anything to protect the boy."

"Gryffindors and their sentimentality," Severus snorted.

"This has gone on too long," Voldemort stated with conviction, "It is time I focus my attention elsewhere. Going after the boy has distracted me and I will not allow it any longer. We will wait until Potter is done with his schooling and then we will take Hogwarts."

Severus grinned into his glass, face hidden by the flickering shadows.


	15. The Last Place You'd Look

"What's the hold up Anderson?" A voice called out from the other side of the door.

A tall, lanky man with short blond hair and kind blue eyes stood alone in the empty room. His wand was held out with one shaky hand as he carefully scanned the room for threats. A creak to his left caused him to turn on the spot but the glow from the tip of his wand revealed nothing was there.

"Sorry sir," Anderson replied. "All clear!"

One witch and two wizards made their way into the room. A second witch stood out on the street, a keen eye watching for any threat. Anderson swallowed nervously past the lump in his throat as the rest of his group made their way through the empty building.

"What's the problem Anderson? You look as if you've seen a ghost." Sergeant Krall's piercing brown eyes gave him a questioningly look.

"It's nothing sir," Anderson assured his commanding officer. "It just feels a little creepy in here, doesn't it sir?"

To his surprise, Sergeant Krall nodded in agreement. "Must be all the residual magic," he stated assuredly.

"Or maybe Anderson's just a big chicken sir and he's spookin' us all," the witch put in from the other side of the room, causing the wizard that was next to her to chuckle quietly.

Anderson smiles at Lawton's jab. Allison Lawton was one of Mike Anderson's best friends from his days at boot camp and he was used to her teasing. George Avery, the brown haired, chisel jawed wizard next to her was also a good friend of Mike's, which is why the three of them are usually assigned to the same teams. They've always worked well together.

"I thought I heard a creaking noise over there," Anderson stated, pointing to a vague spot on the floor to his left.

"Probably just wool settling, nothing to be worried…" A loud cracking noise caused everyone to pause.

Before Avery could cry out he disappeared before their eyes. There was a soft thump and then silence. The four of them stared at the hole that the wizard had disappeared into.

"Avery!" Lawton screamed, rushing toward the hole.

The Sergeant reached out with a strong arm and held her back. "Easy there, we don't know what's down there or if the rest of the floor could give way any time now. Anderson, you're good with Charms." Anderson nodded in reply and then muttered some spells to reinforce the remaining boards around the hole. "You two stay behind me, I'll take a quick peak."

Ever so slowly Sergeant Krall made his way to the edge of the hole. He peered down and could make out the still form of Avery lying on the ground. It was obvious, even from the Sergeant's vantage point that the man was knocked out cold. A red spot on the back of Avery's neck told him that it wasn't the fall that did it.

"Wands at the ready," he commanded. Anderson and Lawton held out their wands, stunning spells poised on their lips.

Suddenly a gaunt looking, gray-haired, silver-eyed man appeared, looking up at the Sergeant with a bemused expression. He was wearing faded black robes so Krall assumed he must be a wizard. "Is he one of yours then?" The strange man questioned. "I'm afraid he'll be out for awhile. Thought he was one of them." The man muttered under his breath. "If I had my wand then I wouldn't have needed to knock him out the muggle way but wands can be tracked and I couldn't take that chance."

Sergeant Krall sighed in relief as he finally figured out the strange wizard's identity. "Mr. Ollivander," he called out calmly, "We'll have you out of there as quick as we can." He then turned to Lawton. "Tell Healey to request a Healer." Lawton nodded and then hurried out of the shop.

"I suppose the wands are gone," Ollivander stated sadly.

"I'm sorry sir, but the Ministry cleaned the place out. They're all gone. All the cores too."

"Not a problem, not a problem," Ollivander chuckled. "My best are down here!"

**dSz**

"Are you sure you want to do this Harry?" Ron questioned worriedly.

Hermione was standing next to him and Rowena on the other side of Harry. All four were looking at a large stone bowl filled with some kind of silvery liquid. Hermione had explained to him that she wanted to see Harry's memory of Professor Dumbledore's death and he had argued that it wasn't right to ask Harry to share something like that.

"I still don't think this is right," Ron commented.

"It's okay Ron," Harry assured his friend, "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure you want to join us?" Hermione asked Rowena for the third time.

Rowena sighed. "I didn't know him Hermione. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"How exactly do I do this?" Harry asked as he fiddled with his wand. "I've never done this before."

"Just think of the memory and then pull," Hermione explained.

"That's it," he responded incredulously.

Harry held his wand to his forehead and thought very hard about the memory of that fateful night. Without thinking he began to pull the wand away and a thin silvery string followed it's tip.

"You're doing it," Hermione stated excitedly. "Now drop it in the pensieve."

The string dripped into the bowl without a sound. All four stared down into the liquid while Harry stirred it with the tip of his wand. Soon they were falling fast, landing on their feet next to Harry. It wasn't the real Harry though, just the memory of Harry from that night. Hermione watched the unfolding scene with a critical eye.

Ron was having a difficult time watching the proceedings. He covered his ears with both hands when Dumbledore began begging for his life. Harry joined him, not able to listen to his mentor's pleas for a second time. Ron glanced at Rowena and noticed that she'd gone extremely pale.

Albus' granddaughter stared coldly at the man who was about to take her grandfather's life. She studied his eyes, his expression, his hands and even his stance. The man looked familiar to her but the memory was fuzzy as if she'd seen him in a dream. She wanted to ask the others about this Snape character but the expression of quiet contemplation on Hermione's face told her to save her questions for later.

A blast of green light filled the tower and Rowena watched as her grandfather fell from the window. Everyone attempted to rush over but met an invisible wall. They could only see what Harry had seen. There was shouting and Harry ran out of the room in pursuit of Dumbledore's murderer. The next thing everyone knew, they were being pulled up and away as the memory faded. The office was silent as Ron and Hermione held Harry in their arms, offering him as much emotional support as they were able.

"That man, Snape…I've seen him before," Rowena stated.

"Where?" Harry growled angrily.

"I'd love to get my hands on him." Ron held his hands out in front of him as if he were choking Snape right then and there.

"Don't be stupid," Hermione scolded the both of them, "Snape would eat you alive. You've seen what he can do."

Rowena nodded in agreement. "He killed my grandfather and he was supposedly the most powerful wizard alive. What chance would either of you have?"

"With Harry's power the way it is, all he'd need to do is hit 'em with a Stupefy and Snape'd probably be stunned for a good hundred years."

Hermione slapped Ron on the arm. "That's not funny."

"He's right," Harry stated, a cold and calculating look in his emerald green eyes, "I could take Snape out easily. I could destroy them all if I wanted to. You saw how much power I've got."

"But you can't control it," Hermione argued. "You could end up hurting or even killing innocent people."

"Not if I planned it right," Harry shot back fiercely.

"I can help you there," Ron offered.

The three of them walked out of the Headmaster's office arguing with each other, completely forgetting that Rowena was still in the room. They missed the disappointed look on her grandfather's face but Rowena didn't. She waited for the door to close before stepping over to stand in front of the portrait.

"I'm worried about him," Rowena stated, "That look in his eyes, it frightens me." She pushed the half-moon glasses up her nose.


	16. The Three

A book, a small golden ball and a small silver object resembling a normal, run-of-the-mill cigarette lighter lay on a large table inside tent number thirteen, part of command post two. Tent number thirteen was the briefing tent, a place where no one at command post two wished to spend time. All of them scientists of some sort, both muggle and magical, preferred to spend their time researching and studying, not attempting to explain their findings to commanders who would never have the brain power to understand what those findings mean. Ten teams existed among the scientists, each had a leader, usually whomever pulled the short straw.

Sergeant Owens stomped into the room and all ten men and women stood up immediately. Behind Owens came Hermione Granger, looking very overwhelmed and Ollivander the wand maker, appearing as befuddled as ever. Owens stood at the head of the table and motioned for everyone to sit, which they did as quickly as possible. Dr. Terrance sat down so fast that he missed his chair completely and ended up on the floor. No one dared to laugh.

"Well, what do we know?" Owens asked the room. Everyone remained silent so he soon zeroed in on Dr. Naturely, a shrewd witch and an expert on magical history. Dr. Naturely eyed Owens as if he were a bug as she pushed a strand of short mousy brown hair behind her ear.

"All three of these items were found in Albus Dumbledore's quarters," the doctor stated, "They were the only three items found in his quarters. No furniture, no curtains, not one speck of evidence that anyone has lived there for at least a year. Perhaps longer, considering the level of dust on the floor. The book, the snitch and the Deluminator were all found in the middle of the room, lying on the floor, completely dust free."

"So someone put them there recently," Hermione interrupted.

Dr. Naturely sent the young witch a glare. "That would be the logical explanation but there are many charms that could be placed to repel dust. No such charm was found on the items but it may have worn off. Now, if I may continue." Hermione blushed.

"Thank you," the witch drawled in a tone not unlike Severus Snape's, "The first item is a book entitled, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. The second item is a snitch, but not one used professionally. It is the same as the snitches used by Hogwarts. The third item is a Deluminator, also known as a Put-Outer, for its ability to put out lights. In America we refer to it as a Darkener."

"All three items seem to have no connection to each other," she continued. "But some of us," she glanced at two wizards sitting at the other end of the table, "have come up with some very farfetched ideas."

"Have you come up with any ideas that aren't far-fetched?" Owens questioned sternly and the witch, eyes downcast, shook her head. "Well, let's here these far-fetched ideas then."

"It's not so far-fetched," a blonde-haired wizard at the end of the table replied and the redheaded muggle next to him nodded in agreement. "Dr. Shaw and I were thinking that perhaps he left these items for certain people."

"But he left a will," Dr. Naturely argued, "Why would he leave three important items sitting in his bedroom instead of giving them away in his will?"

"Because he couldn't," Dr. Shaw stated assuredly, "We believe that these three things have been magically manipulated and too important for Dumbledore to risk involving them in the portal will that he created. The spell work he performed to create that will was very experimental. Dr. Tellten doesn't think he'd want to risk it."

"Exactly," the blonde-haired Dr. Tellten said with a stern nod.

"Well then, who do they belong to?" Owens asked.

"That's an easy one," Ollivander interrupted, everyone jumped in their seats. They'd forgotten the old wizard was in the room. "Three is a powerful number, not unlike seven. Three items, three very magical children."

"You can't mean Harry, Ron and me," Hermione sputtered.

Ollivander fixed her with a piercing stare that caused a shiver to run down her spine. "Take the book Miss Granger and then tell me it does not belong to you."

"This is madness," Dr. Naturely argued, "You can't just bring in some novice witch and expect…"

"I expect you to keep your mouth shut," Owens growled. His expression turned kind as he motioned to Hermione to pick up the ancient looking book.

With shaky hands the young witch reached out and like metal to a magnet, her hands found their way to the yellowed cover. Her whole being shuddered and then time seemed to stop. The room was empty to her eyes and only the book remained. It whispered in her ear secrets that she couldn't make out. She held her breath and strained as hard as she could but the whisper only became quieter and then it was gone.

"What happened?" Owens asked immediately.

"I don't know," Hermione replied, the expression on her face one of total confusion, "It was like the book was trying to tell me something but it was only a quiet whisper. I couldn't make it out."

Ollivander laid a wrinkled hand on the cover. "This book has many stories to tell but one in particular might interest you."

"I agree there," Dr. Shaw stated while running a nervous hand through his red hair. "Each corner of the page has a symbol on it, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows."

Everyone in the room except Owens, Hermione, Ollivander, and Dr. Tellten let out a gasp of surprise. Owens didn't because he wasn't one to be surprised by anything…ever. Hermione had no idea what the Deathly Hallows were which annoyed her more than surprised her. Dr. Tellten already knew what Shaw would say and Ollivander, was being Ollivander, and merely looked around the room with a bemused little grin.

"Excuse me," Hermione finally spoke up, "What are the Deathly Hallows?"

"The story of the Deathly Hallows is in this book," Ollivander replied, "A story of three brothers who try and cheat death, each in their own way. The symbol looks like this." He opened the book and pointed to one corner.

Hermione studied the symbol, wondering where she'd seen it before. It was a simple circle within an equilateral triangle, both bisected by a vertical line. Something from History of Magic suddenly popped in her head and her eyes widened.

"Grindelwald used this symbol, didn't he? I know I've seen this before."

"Gellert was after the Hallows, naively thinking that he would be able to collect all three and become extremely powerful," Ollivander explained to the young witch.

"But what are they exactly?"

"The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisiblity," Dr. Tellten answered.

"A Cloak of Invisibility?" Hermione questioned as the gears in her mind began to turn.

Suddenly the book in her hands gave a little shudder and a small slip of parchment fell from between its pages. The whole room watched as it slowly glided down to the table, everyone itching to reach for it. It was Owens who snatched it up first.

"It says it's the Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," he read aloud. Glancing down the page his expression became stern. He lifted a small black box to his lips and pushed a red button on the side. "Woolford," he growled into the magical box. "Escort Potter and Weasley down to tent thirteen at command post two."

A few moments later the tent flap opened and Woolford walked in with two confused young wizards. Owens motioned the two toward him and they both walked reluctantly around the table while the scientists all stared at them as if they were on display.

"This is what I've asked you here for," Owens stated, holding out the slip of parchment, "It's Dumbledore's Last Will and Testament."

"But I thought that was that portal thingy," Ron interrupted.

"That's what I thought as well but I guess we were all wrong. This is a private matter so I'm giving you the choice to read this privately or choose to share it with everyone."

"You've already read it," Hermioned put in causing Ollivander to snicker.

"Just read it," Harry said quickly, "Get it over with."

"To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it. To Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive. To Harry James Potter, I leave the snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverence and skill, as well as the worth of purely dumb luck."

Harry, Ron and Hermione laughed at that. They all remembered Harry's first Quidditch game at Hogwarts. How could anyone forget? Harry nearly fell from his broom, Hermione set Snape's robes on fire and Harry ended up winning by almost choking on the snitch.

"I wonder why he left me this," Ron contemplated. He grasped the Deluminator in his hand.

"And why the snitch for me?"

"Pick it up Harry," Hermione urged, "I read that a snitch has flesh memories." She let out a huff at Harry and Ron's confused expressions. "No one touches a snitch before its used in a game and it will remember the first person it comes in contact with, that way there can be no dispute as to who caught it first. It should open for you."

Ron's mouth was set in a smug grin. "If Harry picks it up, it won't do anything. He never touched it with his hands. You'll have to kiss it."

"Kiss it," Harry repeated, "Well, here goes nothing." He slowly raised the snitch to his lips and waited with baited breath to see if it would open. To his utter disappointment, nothing happened.

"There's something written on it!" Ron said excitedly.

Harry studied the snitch and sure enough there was faint silver script inscribed on the small golden ball. "I open at the close," he read aloud. "What do you think it means?" Hermione and Ron both shrugged.

"You heard what he said," Owens growled at the tent full of researchers. "I want any information that can be found on the words, 'I open at the close', and I want it by the end of next week!"

"Yes, sir!" The room chorused.

Harry stared at the words as everyone began to file out. There was something unsettling about them, something that he couldn't put his finger on. A coldness settled in the pit of his stomach, he recognized it as dread.


	17. They Must Be The Last

Kingsley Shacklebolt entered his office well after the sun had set in the west. It was a little after midnight, late by most people's standard, but early for Kingsley. He'd been a night wizard all his life.

The Ministry halls were quiet as he made his way to the cafeteria for a late night snack. His shoes clicked on the marble floor, echoing ominously through the building. Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he pulled his wand. Something was wrong, Kingsley didn't know what it was, but he knew that something was definitely wrong.

A muffled shout drew his attention to a darkened hallway off to his right. With a steady hand Kingsley held his wand aloft and sent a shaft of bright light down the corridor. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in the image of Percy Weasley slowly crawling toward him, a gigantic gash above the young man's right eye.

"What's happened?" Kingsley questioned the boy in quiet whisper.

"They're all dead," Percy cried hysterically. "All of them." His eyes scanned the area around them wildly.

"What about the Minister? Where's Scrimgeour?"

Percy pointed wildly. "Back there, in his office."

Kingsley pulled the other man off the floor and helped him to one of the many ministry fireplaces. "I want you to floo to Hogwarts. The password is Murtlap." Then in a flash of green the boy was gone, leaving Kingsley alone in the invaded building.

The seasoned auror didn't waste time. In moments he sprinted across the hall and made his way to the Minister's office. If Death Eaters had already gotten there then he'd be too late to do anything for the Minister, but he'd be damned if he let them get away that easily. He cringed as he passed office after office full of dead Ministry workers. It looked as if many had died while trying to fight but even more had died as they attempted to flee, their bodies lying in their private fireplaces, floo powder clutched in their lifeless hands.

As he drew close to his destination Kingsley began to slow. The place was still silent. He was more than likely too late to save Scrimgeour but a tiny bit of hope and a whole lot of loyalty kept the wizard moving forward. Ice filled his veins as he noticed the office door slightly ajar. They'd most likely already come and left, dirty work done, but he still had to make one hundred percent sure.

"Minister," he whispered as he stepped into the well-lit office. A small groan came from under the desk. "Minister?"

"Down here," Rufus groaned pitifully. "They left me for dead."

Kingsley bent down to look under the desk. He could understand why the Minister had been left for dead. The man looked as if he'd been cursed ten ways from Sunday. A gigantic angry scar started at his forehead and traveled all the way down to his navel making it look as if someone had tried to slice the poor man in half. His right hand was completely gone and his left foot hung by a thread of sinew and skin. Blood had sprayed everywhere, much of it soaked up in the Minister's robes, making them look a deep red rather than their normal gray.

"Can we floo to Hogwarts from here?" Kingsley asked, eyeing the fireplace.

"Yes," the Minister replied weakly. "I have a special connection to the Headmaster's office. Only I can use it though. It will reject anyone else."

Kingsley nodded in understanding. "I'll just floo home and then use my floo to get to the school."

"It won't work," the other man stated sadly, "The floo won't work for anyone else but me."

The sudden sound of voices in the hallway caused both men to glance toward the door. One look at the Minister told Kingsley that he recognized those voices and they definitely weren't people intent on providing assistance.

"You've got to go and tell them what's happened," Kingsley stated assuredly. He lifted the injured man and set him into the fireplace, shoving a pile of floo powder into the Minister's hand before he could object.

"But Kingsley, what about…"

"Go!" Kingsley urged in a loud whisper. The sound of voices was replaced with quick footsteps. "They're coming!" He turned and raised his wand.

"Kingsley, I…"

"Go!"

The command was so forceful that the Minister shouted 'Hogwarts' and threw down the floo powder without thinking. Thousands of images whirred around him before he finally found himself shot out in a familiar Great Hall.

"Is that the Minister?" He heard a young girls voice question.

Rufus' head rose from the ground and he glanced around wearily until he found a familiar face. He reached toward the young boy with round glasses and green eyes, grateful when he felt the boy's hand in his own.

"Minister, what happened?" The boy asked.

"Ministry…Death Eaters…Kings…"

**dSz**

**MINISTRY TAKEN! MINISTER MISSING! **

**Yesterday evening, in You-Know-Who's boldest move to date, a group of Death Eaters attacked the Ministry. The Minister is missing along with Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. Rumor has it that the Minister escaped to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but this has yet to be confirmed. One thing is for certain, the Ministry has fallen and good witches and wizards everywhere have no one to turn to for protection.**

**"First Dumbledore and now this," commented a concerned wizard (who prefers to remain anonymous), "We may as well throw up our hands and give up. All we have left now is Harry Potter and he's still in school." Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts, had this to say. "We urge all witches and wizards seeking protection from You-Know-Who to seek shelter here at the school."**

**We plan on taking the Deputy Headmistresses advice. Hopefully we will see you all there, safe and sound.**

"Not much information," Severus grumbled, throwing the newspaper across the table. Draco plucked it up immediately and scowled as he read the first article.

"Do you think the Minister's dead?" Draco questioned.

Severus shook his head. "No, but he must be in bad shape. More than likely he's close to death which is why they don't want to announce anything at the moment."

"It will be over soon then, won't it?" Draco looked at him hopefully. "Azkaban will fall now and we can get my father back."

"Not until our Lord says he may return. Your father failed in a very important task. Do not think for one second that the Dark Lord has forgotten." Severus sneered. "He forgets nothing."

**DSz**

Augusta Longbottom sat across from the bearded wizard, watching him through narrowed eyes as he poured two cups of tea. His hand shook slightly as he handed her the cup. Twinkling blue eyes met cold brown.

"It must be done soon," she stated assuredly.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I had hoped I would have more time with Rowena, but things are moving faster then I'd expected."

"Yes," Augusta agreed, "I'd hoped the same thing. Neville is finally maturing and soon he'll be a proud and strong Longbottom man just like his father. I wish I could be here to see it, but after what happened at the Ministry…" Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat loudly. "Well, it doesn't matter now. Algie passed on this last summer so there's only Neville and me now."

"What of Harfang?"

Augusta shook her head. "Long dead."

"Then it must be done immediately. Have you warned Neville?"

"He knows I'm an old woman. I'm sure he expects that I'll pass on soon. What have you told Rowena?"

"Nothing," Dumbledore responded calmly, "I haven't allowed her to get too attached."

August sighed as she leaned back. "For the greater good." She held up her teacup and the wizard tapped it with his own.

"For the greater good," he repeated. "If only there was another way. I'd love to be here to see how it all ends."

"They have to be the last," stated Augusta in a sober tone. "There is no other way."

**DSz**

Azkaban was a chaotic scene. Aurors running this way and that, all screeching at the top of their lungs. Lucius wished they'd all just shut up so he could get some sleep. Sleep was the only thing that took him away from the four gray walls of his cell and so he spent most of his time doing just that.

"Keep it down out there," he rasped.

Suddenly his left arm began to bother him, as it had been doing for weeks. He scratched at it relentlessly but the strange tickling sensation never seemed to go away. Now it became worse as the seconds passed and soon his arm was a bloody mess.

"Well, well, well," a voice sing-songed from the corridor outside his cell. "Little Lucius has got himself in a bit of trouble. Tsk, tsk, that's what happens when you upset our Lord."

The door burst open to reveal a woman smiling at him maniacally. Her long black hair and evil grin seemed familiar to Lucius.

"Do I know you?" He questioned.

"I was told to bring you back, if you were fit enough," Bellatrix admitted with a sly smile, "But I don't think your fit enough."

A jumble of words and a flash of green and then Lucius Malfoy's world came to an abrupt and rather anti-climactic end.


	18. Into the Longest Night

_First they came for the centaurs, and I did not speak out  
__Because I was not a centaur  
__Then they came for the veela's, and I did not speak out  
__Because I was not a veela  
__Then they came for the muggle-borns, and I did not speak out  
__Because I was not a muggle-born  
__Then they came for the muggles, and I did not speak out  
__Because I was not a muggle  
__Then they came for me  
__And there was no one left to speak out for me._

The streets of Hogsmeade were unusually silent for early evening. Stanley Panos peered through the window, a wary expression on his aged face. The street lantern in front of his small white house flickered ominously, causing a shiver to run down the old man's spine. So engrossed was he in this sense of foreboding that he didn't hear his wife Elsie sidle up next to him.

"What do you see?" She questioned in an amused tone but Stanley didn't smile. Elsie's own grin faltered. "What is it Stanley?"

"The night feels all wrong," her husband replied soberly, "I don't like it at all."

Elsie scowled at the man. "You are trying to scare me, silly Rom."

Instead of laughing, as she hoped he would, the expression on his face only became darker. He drew her up in a half-hearted hug causing her long gray braid to fall over her shoulder. "My wife, if only I were joking. But no, there is something bad coming, I can feel it under my skin. I feel as I did that night so long ago, when they came and took me away."

Stanley's eyes glazed over as he remembered the night the German's came to the door of his family home. The screams of his mother as a shot rang out and his father fell to the ground. Those screams still echoed in his mind. If only he had known he was a wizard then, perhaps he could have done something to stop the soldiers but he had been only nine years old at the time and had yet to perform any accidental magic.

It wouldn't have mattered anyway. His parents had been muggles and would have had no way of knowing what to do with a young wizard. Certainly they believed in magic but it was the magic of nature and spirits, not magic done with a wand. A German soldier saved him a few years later. The man had been a wizard spy and had noticed Stanley's accidental magic.

Stanley had been relieved at first until he realized that he'd been saved from one war and thrust into another. The only difference was the reason for his persecution, in one war he was Rom and in the other he was a muggle-born. Years passed and Grindelwald was defeated, Stanley eventually got married and had many children.

Elsie tugged his arm, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. "Do not speak about such things. You'll bring evil spirits to our door."

A commotion down the street drew their attention. Stanley stiffened as he heard someone shouting and the sounds of a scuffle. He moved toward the door but his wife held him back, gesturing wildly out the window. A group of dark shadows made their way past the house, white skull masks glinting in the glow of the street lanterns.

"Xari Moarte," Elsie hissed, slowly backing away from the window.

Stanley nodded warily but he did not see the Death Eaters in the same way as his wife. Instead of robes he saw uniforms and the wands in their hands were guns. He pushed Elsie toward the bedroom.

"Fetch Marie and pack her things."

There was no time to argue and Stanley was glad when his wife merely nodded and swiftly disappeared into the other room. A moment later she came out holding a small baby in her arms, an overnight bag slung over one shoulder. He could see the fear in her eyes as she looked down at their granddaughter but when she raised her head that fear was gone. Elsie was not weak; she had promised to look after their youngest son's child, and she would not fail at that kind of responsibility.

A soft tapping at the back door caused Stanley's blood to freeze. Surely they would not try and trick him in such a way. He knew how these things worked. They would kick down the front door and drag them away. Soldiers are not sneaky.

Elsie grabbed his arm as he moved toward the kitchen. "Don't," was all she could force through her tightly clenched teeth.

"Stanley, are you in there?" A voice called out.

"It's Mr. Tiggly from next door," Stanley whispered with a sigh of relief. He disentangled himself from his wife's grasp and quickly opened the door for his neighbor.

Harold Tiggly rushed inside and then slowly shut the door. "You must leave," he hissed quietly. "They're rounding up the muggle-borns and the squibs."

It was what Stanley had feared, the past was coming back to haunt him. No, not only him, his family too. Elsie, also a muggle-born, was in equal danger.

"What are we to do? Our floo is broken," Elsie asked quietly in a pleading tone.

"Damn that landlord," Stanley half-whispered, half-shouted. "I pay rent but nothing is ever fixed."

"What of the shanglo?" Elsie questioned Mr. Tiggly who directed a confused look at Stanley.

"The Ministry?" Stanley clarified. "Where are the aurors? Can't someone call for help?"

Harold shook his head. "The Ministry's been attacked, most of them are dead."

The shouting outside was increasing in volume as the Death Eaters made their way down each block. Soon they would be at the Panos house, a place where known muggle-borns were currently living. Stanley glanced out the window, a pained look on his face.

"Does your floo work?" Stanley questioned. Everyone knew Mr. Tiggly was pureblood; the Death Eaters would search his house last.

Harold shook his head again. "I've never had one, didn't see the need really. According to the man on the Wireless, everyone's heading to Hogwarts. I suggest you two do the same."

"We'll never make it," Stanley spat derisively, "Elsie cannot run and we have our granddaughter with us. It's much too dangerous. We'll have to hide in the cellar. I don't know how long we'll last down there. There's not much food and no water…" His voice trailed off sadly.

The short, round middle-aged wizard looked conflicted for a moment before his normally soft brown eyes turned steely. "Right then, you two take the baby into the cellar. Where's the entrance?" Stanley pointed to a spot in the floor under the kitchen table. "Once you're in, I'll move the table back over the entrance. Then I'll head for Hogwarts."

Elsie looked at him disbelievingly. "You must not! They'll have the streets blocked off I'm sure, so no one can escape."

"I'll go through the Forest," Harold replied, voice shaky with fear, "I saw some others heading that way, perhaps I can meet up with them. We ought to be able to make it if we travel together. I'll send someone back to help you."

Stanley held out his hand and the short wizard grasped it firmly. "Good-bye Mr. Tiggly."

"Down to the cellar, both of you."

The two wizards moved the kitchen table and then Stanley and his wife made their way down into the dark cellar. They looked up at Mr. Tiggly, their features appearing haunted and full of despair.

"I'll be back with help," Mr. Tiggly assured them, but he could tell they did not believe anyone would come to their rescue. "I promise." The trap door fell shut and he carefully levitated the kitchen table back to its original spot. As he hurried through the back door he could hear the front door fly open with a bang.

An hour later he finally spotted the castle looming not far ahead, a group of haggard looking wizards and witches staggered in the same direction. They must have been quite a sight as they made their way out of the trees and onto the grounds of the castle. Harold could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up when he passed through the wards. It was a comforting feeling though, since he knew he was finally safe. No Death Eaters could follow.

Finding help proved to be more difficult then he'd imagined. The Great Hall was full of glassy-eyed refugees, all in need of some kind of assistance. A few aurors that hadn't been working at the time of the Ministry attack made their way through the groups of displaced families, handing out bottomless goblets of water and bags full of food. Harold passed through the hall, going from one auror to the next, doing his best to plead with them to go to Hogsmeade and save his friends but everyone was too busy to listen. It was the same with the school staff and eventually he thought about just giving up.

But then he remembered the look on Mr. Panos' face as he closed the cellar door; the resignation in the muggle-born's eyes, almost as if he'd given up hope. That single memory drove Harold to keep trying. He slipped out an unlocked side door and made his way down an empty corridor. No idea where he was going, he ran blindly, tripping over his own feet and landing on the cold floor with a loud thud.

"Hey Mister, are you okay?"

Harold glanced up to see a large blonde haired boy offering him a hand up. He accepted it gratefully. "I'm trying to find help. My neighbors down in Hogsmeade, they're stuck in their cellar. Death Eaters are down there."

"So that's what all the fuss is about," the boy mulled under his breath. He shook his head sadly. "I can't help you there. I'm just a muggle." Suddenly the boy's blue eyes widened. "I know someone who can though. My cousin is really good at magic and stuff. I bet he'd help."

Harold followed the boy down a few different hallways, up a flight of stairs and into a library. He began to worry. "Is this cousin of yours an auror?"

The blonde boy smiled. "Better," he replied before calling out. "Hey Harry, you in here?"

"Dudley, is that you?" A voice questioned in an amused tone. "Didn't think you'd set foot in a library."

Suddenly a girl with bushy brown hair came wandering out from one of the aisles, nose buried in a large book. A redhead walked behind her carrying an extremely tall pile of old tomes. Another girl sat at one of the tables, looking at him curiously over her half-moon glasses.

"I really don't have time for this," Harold began to grumble but his voice suddenly caught in his throat as a young man stepped out from a row of books near the back, a young man he instantly recognized. "Harry Potter!" He exclaimed without thinking.

"Dudley," Hermione sighed. "You're not supposed to be bringing people up here. Just think what might happen if they found out Harry was around. They'd all want his help."

"Someone's going to do something, aren't they?" Harold questioned abruptly. "You can't just leave those people down there." He gestured wildly in the direction of Hogsmeade.

"I'm Hermione, that's Ron, Rowena, Harry and of course you've met Dudley. You really should be down at the Great Hall with the others."

"Hermione, don't be so cold," Ron broke in, "It's obvious he's been through a lot. What's your name anyway?"

"Harold Tiggly," the man answered swiftly. "Please help me."

"There's some aurors heading down there now," Harry explained, "Americans."

"But they won't find my friends," Harold stated quickly. "My neighbors are hiding in their cellar and their granddaughter is with them, she's just a baby!"

"A baby," Rowena repeated, "In a cellar." She shared a horrified look with Hermione. "We've got to do something."

"Your not doing anything," Harry commanded, "I'll just call Sergeant Owens, he gave me that walkie-talkie thing, remember?" He pulled a small box out of his pocket and pushed the red button. "Hello?" No answer. "Hello?"

"Are you sure you're doing it right?" Hermione asked, plucking the box from his hand. "Sergeant Owens, do you read me?" Still no answer. She shrugged, handing the box back to Harry. "Maybe something's blocking the signal."

Harold snapped his fingers. "I bet it was affecting the Wireless signal too. It went out right before I went over to warn Stanley and his wife."

"We can't go down there," Hermione hissed angrily as she noticed the determined look on Harry's face. "The whole village will be crawling with Death Eaters."

"And soldiers," Ron put in, "They probably won't even notice we're there."

Harold looked at the Boy Who Lived hopefully. "I'll tell you where to go. I would go with you but I'm not powerful enough to fight off Death Eaters."

"Why didn't your neighbors escape with you?" Rowena questioned.

"They're very old," Harold stated sadly. "Elsie has a bad hip and with the baby it would have been impossible."

Hermione shook her head in frustration. "We need to tell Remus or Professor McGonagall, they'll know what to do."

"I tried to get help down in the hall but everyone is busy helping others. Please..."

The desperate look in the man's eyes tugged at Harry's heartstrings. Hermione always told him that he had a 'saving people' thing, but that's just the kind of wizard he is and will always be, no use trying to change it now. "Can you draw us a map?"

The man nodded wildly while Hermione let out an angrily growl. Ron stepped over to see what Tiggly was drawing. He pointed at a few places on the parchment where the older wizard had started to sketch.

"I know where this is," Ron commented, "It's on the block behind Honeyduke's, directly behind Honeyduke's." He gave Harry a pointed look.

"Of course, the secret passage. That'll work out perfect."

Hermione shook her head. "This is madness. We're going to be in so much trouble."

"We're all over the age of seventeen which means we're all adults. It's time we started making decisions on our own. Dumbledore's not here anymore, remember?"

Harry couldn't believe that the words had come from Ron. His best friend had never sounded so…mature. Even Hermione seemed momentarily dumbfounded, giving Ron time to fold up the map and head for the door.

The passage took them up through Honeydukes, as they knew it would, and immediately they noticed that something was wrong. A foul odor hung in the air and the whole village seemed to be seeped in dark magic. The once vibrant and lively candy store now seemed eerie and out of place.

"It's through the back door, across the street and then one to the left. Did you bring your cloak?" Harry nodded and pulled out a length of shimmering material. "It's obvious they've put up anti-apparition wards, I can feel them, so we'll use the invisibility cloak until we get across the street. Then we'll let that man and his wife use it to get back here."

"What about us?" Hermione questioned worriedly.

"We'll have to take our chances," Ron stated with a small shrug, "If we get into trouble, look for Sergeant's Owens men…"

"And women," Hermione interrupted.

"And women," Ron conceded, "The most important thing is that we draw the Death Eaters away from Honeydukes. We need to give those people time to get away. I'll mark the trapdoor here with a little X, then they'll be able to find it." Ron pulled out two Blood Pops and crossed them over the trapdoor. He threw a few more around so it would like as if they'd merely fallen that way.

Harry cautiously opened the door. Instantly he was amazed at how quiet the village seemed, perhaps all of the Death Eaters had left. The three made their way across the empty street under Harry's invisibility cloak. Halfway there they came to a stop. There was someone coming.

"Don't move," Harry whispered out the corner of his mouth. His two friends nodding to show they had heard.

At the end of the block a group of Death Eaters walked by, each one floating a body in front of them. Harry felt Hermione grip his arm, her hand shaking with fear. She did the same to Ron before clapping a hand over her mouth to keep herself from shouting. Once the Death Eaters had moved on to the next street, Harry quickly pulled the young witch to their destination.

"Did you see that?" Hermione questioned in a loud whisper. "They're kidnapping people."

"We don't have the time or the skill to go after them," Ron stated sadly. "Let's just stick with the plan."

The three young people moved through the house as silently as possible, finally stopping next to the kitchen table. The trapdoor to the cellar was very well hidden under the long tablecloth; most people wouldn't be able to find it unless they knew it was there.

"Mr. Panos," Hermione called out in a soft voice as Ron lifted the trapdoor. "Mr. Panos, are you there?"

Instantly a wand was pointed between her eyes. "Who are you?" Mr. Panos hissed warily. "Are you Death Eaters?"

"Do we look like Death Eaters?" Ron scoffed.

"No, we're not Death Eaters," Harry assured the old wizard, "Your neighbor, Mr. Tiggly, sent us to get you." He reached down and offered the man his hand.

Stanley took it warily, never dropping his wand until he was out of the dark cellar and could see the three students properly. His eyes stopped momentarily on Ron and Hermione before coming to a stop on Harry's scar. Stanley's eyes widened comically.

"I did not believe Mr. Tiggly would truly send help but to see you standing here now, the Savior of the wizarding world…I cannot believe my own sight!" He rubbed his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was indeed real.

"We don't have time to stand here and talk," Harry stated in a serious tone, "You and your wife need to take my invisibility cloak and then head to Honeyduke's. The backdoor is open. Go down to the cellar and look for two blood pops crossed over one another on the floor. There's a trapdoor underneath them and it leads all the way to Hogwarts."

The intense look the older wizard was giving him was a sure sign that the man had understood the directions. With a small nod he reached down into the cellar and helped Elsie to climb up the stairs. She gave Harry a quick kiss on the forehead before heading toward the door, her husband close behind with Harry's cloak in hand. They disappeared before opening the door, not even glancing back at the three teenagers.

"Well, that was the easy part," Ron commented dryly, "Now we've got to give them some time before following." He took a seat at the kitchen table and his friends followed suit.

Back at the school, chaos reigned. Refugees were pouring in from all over and they were all converging in the Great Hall, which had magically enlarged to five times its normal size. Thirty fireplaces had appeared on each side of the hall, the emergency floo's, put in place at the time of Grindewald but never actually used.

Everyone coming through was thoroughly checked. Although the wards had been tweaked to keep out anyone with the Dark Mark, there were plenty of wizards and witches working for You-Know-Who in secret. Ollivander checked all wands, making sure they belonged to the person carrying them, while a few of the American soldiers scanned them for dark magic.

Remus sped around the hall, helping where he could and pointing people in the right direction when he couldn't. A shout of surprise from the back of the hall drew his attention. He could see Minerva waving him over.

"I've just been informed that the Red Cross is on their way," she stated, "They're coming up through the lake. I need you to lead them here."

"No problem," he replied and quickly made his way down to the lake.

Ten minutes later a gigantic white ship rose up from the lake's dark depths, a gigantic red cross on the side. About a hundred people began unloading supplies while one tall, dark haired man walked over with a clipboard.

"Mike Benson," the man said while reaching a hand out.

"Remus Lupin. Let me show you to the Great Hall."

Remus led Mike through the school, impressed by the man's focus toward the job at hand. He did not pause to look at any of the paintings or gawk at the moving stairs, instead he merely asked Remus a few questions regarding the current situation and made a few notes on his clipboard.

As they neared the Great Hall, Remus was surprised to run into Dudley and a short brown-haired man he didn't recognize. "Dudley, what are you doing wandering around down here?"

"I was just keeping Mr. Tiggly here company," the blonde boy answered cheerfully, "We're waiting for Harry and his friends to get back."

Remus had already opened his mouth to reprimand Dudley about talking to strangers and then the boy's words hit him like a bludger. "Get back?" He questioned dumbly.

Dudley nodded. "Yep, they went down to rescue Mr. Tiggly's friends."

Without thinking Remus grabbed the front of Mr. Tiggly's shirt. "You sent him down to Hogsmeade. He's only a boy for Merlin's sake!"

"But he's Harry Potter," Mr. Tiggly responded, a confused expression on his face.

Remus let out a low growl and pushed the man aside. "Dudley, take these two to the Great Hall. I've got wizard to find and then ground for the next million years."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter seemed to take forever to write. When I started it I really wanted to capture a feeling of chaos and fear. The Panos' are actually based on my grandparents who are Bohemian Roma. My grandfather passed away quite a few years ago now. Both of my grandparents were born in America so (luckily) they did not have to live through the horrors of WWII. Only about 100 Bohemian Roma survived the Nazi genocide of Roma and Sinti in the 1940's.**

**A "Shanglo" is a law enforcer like a constable or a policeman.**

**Trying to translate "Death Eater" was somewhat difficult so I settled on "Xari Moarte" which means "One who eats death".**

**It's kind of funny that I have Elsie still using Romany words even though she can speak English, because in real life it was my grandfather who would constantly use Romany terms and phrases...or curse words. Boy would my grandmother yell at him for that!**


	19. Magic and Loss

_There's a bit of magic in everything, and some loss to even things out. - Lou Reed (Magic and Loss)_

The sound of fighting traveled through the house, causing all three teenagers to jump to their feet. A battle was being waged right outside the door. Hermione and Harry both looked to Ron who was pointing up. The two nodded and followed the redhead upstairs. The view from the outside window was not good. Two American soldiers along with their old friend, and Harry's current tutor, Nymphadora Tonks, were surrounded by Death Eaters and not faring well.

Hermione's brow furrowed, a plan forming in her mind. "We can provide support from here. They won't be able to hit us from this angle."

Harry moved toward the window but Ron stopped him. "Not you mate, you're libel to blow up the whole block." He gave the other boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder and then joined Hermione at the window.

"Right," was Harry's only reply. He'd never felt so worthless. His friends were going to do the fighting while he sat up here doing nothing. Surely there was some spell or curse he could use that wouldn't cause damage if it were done too strongly. "Imperius!" He exclaimed quietly.

"What?" Ron and Hermione turned their heads to look at him.

"I can use the Imperius. It shouldn't matter if it's really powerful because that will just give me more control."

Hermione didn't look convinced. "I don't know Harry, you could cause brain damage."

"So what," Ron put in uncaringly, "They're only Death Eaters. I say go for it."

Harry moved to the window and looked down at one of the masked figures. "Imperio," he whispered and instantly he knew something was wrong.

The imperius curse should only enable the caster to control the person it was cast upon, but Harry's curse was so powerful that it was as if he became the Death Eater. He was seeing through the Death Eater's eyes, hearing the Death Eater's thoughts, and instinctively he knew that he had full control over the man. Wasting no time and knowing there would be no repercussions against him personally, Harry snuck up behind another Death Eater and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Whadya want now Shilling? Can't you see I'm busy at the moment?" Harry recognized the Death Eater as Goyle's father.

Harry wasn't sure what to do next. If he cast anything while using the Imperius, would his power level still be the same? He couldn't risk it so he decided on a much simpler route. Without a single word uttered, he drew back a fist and punched Goyle squarely in the stomach.

The other man fell to the ground and the eight other Death Eaters stopped to stare. Even Tonks' jaw dropped in surprise. All eyes moved to Schilling, who was looking at Goyle in confusion.

"What happened?" He questioned dumbly.

Suddenly spells and curses began flying down from above. Tonks and the two Americans standing with her quickly jumped into action and added their own spells into the mix. Soon all ten Death Eaters were lying on the ground stunned. Harry, Ron and Hermione raced down the stairs as Tonks threw the door open.

"What are you three doing here?" Tonks exclaimed in surprise. "It's much too dangerous here for three kids."

"Save it," Ron interrupted, "We're all of age now and we came to help."

"And it looks like you three needed some help just now," Hermione added with a sly grin.

"Be that as it may," Tonks said, pointing an accusing finger at the three, "You three are staying with us and we're getting you back to the school."

"No way," Harry stated, "There are more people here who might need help."

Tonks kicked the ground in frustration. "Remus is going to kill me," she grumbled angrily. "Okay you three, you follow my orders and the first one is, don't get yourselves killed, got it?"

"Got it," all three responded.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" One of the American's asked. Harry recognized the voice.

"Sergeant Woolford! What happened to the rest of your unit?"

Woolford shook her head. "All gone I'm afraid. We were ambushed down at the Three Broomsticks."

"Rosmerta!" Hermione exclaimed and Woolford's eyes dropped to her feet. "O no!"

"She put up a fight." The short, blonde-haired wizard standing next to Woolford assured the group. "Anderson by the way," he introduced himself, shaking Harry's hand firmly.

"So what's the plan?" Ron questioned.

"We need to meet up with another unit," Tonks stated, "Even with the help of you three, we're too vulnerable."

"Sergeant Krall's second unit is stationed near the Shrieking Shack," Woolford explained. "We're using the secret passageway to move people to Hogwarts. It has to be protected though since it's a known route."

"There's another passage," Ron explained, "Honeydukes' cellar's got a passage leading directly into Hogwarts."

Tonks shook her head. "It's too late to try and setup a second defensive position. We'll just have to forget about that one. Would any of the Death Eaters know about it?"

Harry began to shake his head but then stopped. "Snape might know," he replied worriedly. "He's been at the school a long time. If anyone would know, it would be him."

"Well we'll just have to hope ol' Snivvelus is still in the dark. Let's head for the Shrieking Shack. No stunners, killing curse only," Tonks ordered.

"What?!" Hermione questioned, eyes wide, "You can't be serious."

"Unfortunately I am. Azkaban has been taken and the Ministry's lost. We don't have the manpower or the resources to start hauling Death Eaters in. Be careful Harry." Tonks gave the teenage wizard a meaningful look. "Maybe you should stick to defensive spells only."

"Yeah, I know. Wouldn't want to kill everyone in town."

**DSz**

A red-cloaked figure strode through the chaotic halls of St. Mungo's. The place was in a panic. The Ministry had been taken and Hogsmeade was soon to follow. It wouldn't be long before the Dark Lord turned his attention on the magical hospital. All of the patients and staff were being evacuated to Hogwarts.

"Open up the floo connections in the break room," a healer called out, "I just talked to McGonagall and she's opened the floo in the Hospital wing."

"About time," another healer grumbled, moving quickly around the corner.

No one noticed the figure in red as he made his way up a flight of stairs. A large sign hung on the door at the end of the hall. The man pushed open the door to Ward 49, slipping inside without a sound. The healers hadn't gotten to this ward yet and all of the patients sat in their beds, staring blankly at the air in front of them.

"Close your eyes," the figure whispered to Alice Longbottom. She did so without argument. A burst of green light filled the room and Alice's arm dropped to her side.

The figure moved to the next bed. He paused momentarily, holding Frank Longbottom's hand in his own. "I'm sorry old friend," he whispered in the man's ear. Another burst of light and Frank's body went limp.

"He must be the last," the red-cloaked figure whispered in the dead man's ear before tugging a chain around his neck and disappearing with a soft pop.

**DSz**

The castle was full to the brim with refugees. Rowena chose to stay outside and out of the way. She was directing a family of four who'd just come out of the woods when a strange sound caught her ear. Cocking her head to the side, she tried to make it out. It sounded like a bird singing, no, not singing, a bird calling to her. As if in a daze she made her way toward the lake.

A thick mass of clouds began to form in the sky, blocking out the half moon and stars. Remus was helping the Red Cross unload. It was a job he'd been roped into. He wanted to go search for Harry but these people needed his help. Being a werewolf, he was more attuned to change in weather. He sniffed the air curiously as thunder rumbled overhead.

"Get these potions inside!" He shouted to the group. "A storm's coming." He sniffed again. "A lightning storm!"

The wind began to pick up, sending leaves and branches flying through the air around the castle. Through the darkness he could see a lone figure making it's way toward the lake, a lone female figure.

Rowena stopped next to her grandfather's tomb. A beautiful red and gold bird sat upon a branch above the white monument. It was silent now, watching her with intelligent eyes. She stared at the bird, wondering what it was trying to tell her.

"What are you doing?" Remus questioned, running up to stand beside the young witch. He froze in place when he saw Fawkes. "Fawkes!" He exclaimed.

"He was calling to me," Rowena stated, eyes glazed and milky. "I don't know..." She laid a hand over the tomb, feeling a strange vibration coming from within. "Do you feel that?"

"What?"

"Like something moving inside," Rowena explained.

Suddenly the sky lit up as lightning streaked overhead. "It's dangerous out here. Let's go back inside," he urged, grabbing Rowena's shoulder. He pulled his hand back quickly as if burned.

Another streak of lightning and the tomb exploded in a cloud of white. Rowena stood unmoving, one hand still held out over the place where the tomb had been moments before. A small piece of wood rose slowly through the ashes, coming to rest in the young woman's palm. She closed her fingers and shut her eyes, feeling the powerful magic surge through her very being and then she was on her knees.

"What is that?" Remus questioned fearfully. Rowena opened her eyes to try and explain but Remus wasn't looking at her, his attention was on the sky above the castle.

"The clouds," was all she could say before her jaw slackened in shock.

Above the school was an upside-down castle. It was Hogwarts. Remus watched as the mirror image slowly descended through the clouds. A cold feeling swelled inside his heart.

"What is that?" He asked again.

"No, no, no," Rowena shook her head. "This can't be happening now. We're not ready yet."

"What is that?" Remus pulled the girl from the ground and shook her forcefully. "Is it real?"

Rowena nodded slowly. "Very real." The frightened look in the young witch's eyes did nothing to quell Remus' own fear.

With a crack the image finally dropped over the castle and the ground shuddered as if it had been struck. Minutes passed in silence and then the first of the screams hit them.

**DSz**

Hermione crawled through the tunnel, Harry in front of her and Ron behind. They'd been ordered to secure the other entrance. Everything was dark, except for the pale glow from the tip of her wand. Just as they reached the opening under the Whomping Willow, the ground shook.

"Was that an earthquake or an attack?" Ron questioned.

"I don't know," Harry replied, "It was short whatever it was. Let me take a look outside. Hermione, where's that light?"

Hermione stared at her wand. She hadn't even noticed that it had gone out. "That's odd, I didn't end the spell."

"You probably just got scared and lost concentration," Ron offered.

"I did no such thing," she huffed. "Lumos." She waved her wand and nothing happened.

"Lumos." Ron's wand lit the tunnel. "Let's get out of this hole," he urged, "and then we'll worry about it."

The three climbed out onto the grounds. Everything looked okay, no Death Eaters and no Dark Lord. Ron and Harry sighed in relief while Hermione gasped in shock. She pointed up at the castle.

"O no! Not Hogwarts!"

The two wizards looked to where she was pointing. "What are you on about Hermione?" Ron questioned. "It looks the same as ever from here."

Hermione didn't answer, her attention firmly affixed on the ruins of her beloved school. The towers were crumbling shells and the beautiful entrance doors were rusted and hanging on their hinges. A terrible empty feeling rose up inside her heart, as if a piece of her soul had been ripped right out.

"The castle is fine," Harry reassured her.

"No, it's in ruins," Hermione replied shakily, "Can't you see it? It's horrible." She shook her head wildly. "It's all gone."

Harry and Ron looked at her in confusion. "It looks fine to me," Ron shrugged.

Suddenly Hermione was overcome by a frightening thought. She raised her wand. "Lumos." Nothing happened. She pointed it at a rock at her feet. "Wingardium Leviosa." The rock didn't move an inch. "Wingardium Leviosa," she cried tearfully, flicking her wand correctly and still the rock did not move.

Ron came up to put an arm around her but she pushed him away. "My magic, it's gone!" She fell to her knees, staring at her wand and wondering why it had betrayed her. "That's why I can't see the castle." Her tearful eyes turned to both her friends. "I'm a muggle!"

Seconds passed in silence and then they heard the screams.


	20. When Worlds Fall

_We never understand how little we need in this world until we know the loss of it. – James M. Barrie_

A scream originating in the next room caused Severus to look up from the large gold cauldron he was currently slaving over. He rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on his robes. The wall moved aside as he waved his wand in front of it, revealing two long rows of new and old clothing. The closet served as a secret passage to his private lab, a room only he could access. There he worked on a potion that would not be done for another year. A potion that none knew of, except Severus and one other.

Severus took in the scene as he stalked into the living room. Draco Malfoy sat on the floor, a broken vase lying next to him and a strange look on his pale face. The boy was staring at the wand clutched stiffly in his palm.

"This is what upset you?" Severus motioned to the pieces of ceramic. "It's only a broken vase. Cast a simple Reparo and be done with it."

The young wizard slowly turned his head and when his blue eyes met Severus' own black, a chill ran down the older wizard's spine. Draco's face held an expression of horror and despair the likes Severus had never seen in all his years. It was if the boy had seen his own death.

"I…t…tried," Draco stuttered, "I…" His voice fell away and he held out his wand. "It doesn't work anymore."

"What do you mean, it doesn't work?" Severus questioned nervously. "It's a simple spell, a first year could manage it."

Draco nodded slowly. "I know. It…I don't work anymore. I…my magic is gone."

The breath in Severus' throat caught and his heart thudded against his ribs. He was sure the boy was talking nonsense, but the look in Draco's eyes, the emptiness there…something has gone wrong. A sudden knock on the door drew both their attention. "Not a word," he hissed at the young wizard. Draco shook his head mechanically.

"Winter comes early this year," Severus whispered through the door. There was silence for a moment and he made sure his wand was at the ready just in case the person on the other side wasn't a friend.

"But the frost is already here," a sharp female voice replied.

Severus opened the door. "Narcissa, what in Merlin's name are you doing here at this time of night?"

He'd never seen the woman look so out of sorts. Her blonde hair appeared matted and stained with blood. A large cut was leaking dark red liquid down her right leg, pooling on her shoe. Severus put out an arm to help her through the door.

"There was a raid on Hogsmeade tonight and then St. Mungo's. We ran into some resistance in Hogsmeade but we were able to get most of the muggleborns." She paused to take a deep wheezing breath. Severus cringed at the sound.

"Something strange happened," Narcissa said, grabbing Severus' arm in a vice like grip. "Their not muggleborns anymore, they're all just muggles. All of their magic is gone." Without saying anything, Severus cast a silent lumos and sighed in relief as his wand tip began to glow. Narcissa shook her head. "No, it's only the muggleborns." Her eyes strayed to her son and Severus' eyes widened in surprise.

"Surely, you don't mean…"

The witch nodded her head and closed her eyes. "Yes."

"What?!" Draco exclaimed wildly. "But I can't be…I'm not…we're purebloods!"

"Your father and I are purebloods, but you are a muggleborn. I adopted you when you were just a baby. I was desperate. My baby was dead inside of me and I was told I couldn't have another." She clutched at Severus' robes desperately, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Lucius would have left me…or worse, what else could I do?"

With those words, Draco Malfoy's world was completely destroyed. It had taken a few years, but Severus knew the day would come when all of the things he'd used to build himself up would come tumbling down. The older wizard took no pleasure in seeing the boy fall so far.

"You've got to get him out of here," Narcissa hissed, eyes fierce and determined. "If the Dark Lord finds out, if any of the Death Eaters find out…"

"You wish me to hide something from our Lord," Severus stated carefully.

"O come off it," interrupted Narcissa, "I know you're not loyal to anyone but yourself. I'm not blind or ignorant. You have to help me Severus, please help me."

Severus gave her a curious look. "What would you have me do? There is no where safe to send him."

"Hogwarts," she said.

"No!" Draco protested. "They'll kill me, or worse. I let the Death Eaters in, I let them kill Dumbledore!"

"Quiet," Severus commanded. "Your mother is correct. Hogwarts is the only place where you'll have a chance at survival. You're a muggle now so you're not a threat. The worst they'll do is lock you in the dungeons, but at least you'll be safe."

"What about Potter?" Sneered Draco. "Do you think he's just going to forgive and forget? He'll kill me and they'll do nothing to stop him."

Severus cocked his head to the side. "We'll have to take that chance."

**DSz**

At Hogwarts the chaos continued. Many of the muggleborns became hysterical at the discovery that their magic was gone, while some did not believe it, choosing instead to label it as a cruel trick perpetrated by You-Know-Who. Stanley Panos and his wife Elsie, held their granddaughter close and thanked Merlin that they were still alive. Up in the Headmaster's office, three teenagers sat together, avoiding the crowds and attempting to reconcile with the events of the evening.

"Hermione, you need to calm down." Harry spoke slowly and softly to the young witch as Ron rubbed small circles on her back. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this."

She turned to him with bloodshot eyes. "Of course there is," she replied, voice gravely and harsh. "It was all a mistake, just as I thought it was when I first got my letter. Magic," she cackled, "Who would believe such a foolish thing? It's all been some kind of dream, I just need to wake up."

Ron shook his head. "No Hermione, it's not been a dream. I'm right here and so is Harry. We're not a dream. Look at me." Hermione turned toward the redhead.

"O Ron, as if you'd tell me if you were a dream. You're a figment of my imagination, just like everything else."

"Does this feel real?" Ron questioned sharply and leaned in, capturing the young girl's lips with his own. Before she could react, he snaked one arm around her and pulled her close, tangling a hand in her ratted brown curls full of mud and leaves. He pulled away and looked deep into her eyes. "Tell me Hermione," he commanded huskily, "Was that real?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed with color. "I've completely overreacted," she stuttered nervously, "Surely there's a logical explanation for this, we just need to search for it." She glanced down at her robes and pulled at her dirty hair. "But first a good bath might be in order." Harry and Ron both laughed jovially, glad to have their friend back even for a little while.

Suddenly the floo glowed green and a young man in black robes came stepping through the flames. All three Gryffindors were on their feet immediately, wands drawn and at the ready. The pale young man put his hands up to show he was unarmed.

"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, finally recognizing the soot covered Slytherin.

"Malfoy?" Ron questioned, eyes widening in surprise. Both Gryffindors were too surprised to make a move, but not Harry.

"Malfoy," he hissed menacingly, closing in on the other teen until the tip of his wand was resting on the blonde's jugular.

"Please don't kill me," Draco pleaded in a quiet whisper, "I've come to give myself up."

"And why would I let you live," Harry growled, "After what you did. Dumbledore is dead because of you! Now all the muggleborns have lost their magic. What's your Lord been up to Draco? It seems he's got some new tricks up his sleeve."

"I don't know," Draco whined pitifully, "I don't know anything about it."

Hermione stepped up beside Harry and reached over into Draco's pocket, extracting his wand. She looked at it sadly and then handed it to Ron. "Don't hurt him Harry," she pleaded with the young man, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You're better than that. You're not like him." That must have been exactly what Harry needed to hear because he slowly lowered his wand and backed away.

"Now tell us what you're doing here," Hermione demanded. "Did he…" Her breath caught in her throat as Draco's eyes met her own.

"It happened to me too you know," Draco mumbled, "I felt it leave me and now I'm so empty. Do you feel the emptiness too? It's like I'm not even a person anymore. O Merlin what am I!" He dropped to his knees, his wail echoing through the room causing the portraits of the old Headmasters and Headmistresses to shift nervously in their frames.

"Blimey, he's a muggle-born!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione knelt in front of the young Slytherin. "Is it true Draco, are you a muggle-born?"

"I'm not even that anymore," he bawled, "I'm just a muggle now. Just a worthless muggle."

It was like slow motion the way Draco fell into Hermione's arms and she caught him immediately as if she knew he was going reach for her before he did. They clutched each other, old enemies now turned into something else by a shared experience that few could ever understand. Harry and Ron watched the scene and shifted awkwardly where they stood.

"We're going to figure out what's going on," Hermione stated as she pulled away, "There's got to be some kind of explanation, some reason this happened now."

"It's got to be You-Know-Who, hasn't it?" Ron questioned. "He hates muggleborns."

"But he hates muggles too," Harry added, "Wouldn't he just want to kill them all, why change muggleborns into muggles?"

Suddenly the door burst open and Remus burst in dragging Rowena along by the arm. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and then pushed the girl out in front of him. "Tell them what you told me."


	21. Hogwarts

_"When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle."_

The teenagers stared at Rowena expectantly as she fiddled with the piece of wood in her hand. Harry slowly stepped forward, watching her hands move along the wand. There was something familiar about it, as if he'd seen it somewhere before. Without thinking he snatched it away. Immediately he felt a rush of warmth run down his arm and spread through his whole body.

"Where did you get this?" He gasped.

Rowena's expression fell. "So it's yours then? I figured as much. I was hoping…"

"This is Dumbledore's wand," Harry stated assuredly, "I'd know it anywhere. But how did you get it?"

"Fawkes called to me and then the tomb was blasted open by lightning. It flew right into my hand. Apparently I was supposed to get it for you."

Suddenly Harry cringed as he felt a stab of pain, as if something was jabbing him in the leg. Slowly he reached down and extracted his holly wand. The wood burned in his hand and he immediately dropped it onto the floor.

Harry stared at it in confusion. "That was weird."

"What happened?" Hermione questioned.

"It burned me." He looked down at Dumbledore's wand. "The wand chooses the wizard," he whispered quietly.

No one noticed Rowena bend down and pick up Harry's wand. A moment later a shower of sparks rained down from the tip. Rowena smiled and moved to hand it back. Harry waved her off.

"It's yours now," Harry said, a bit of sadness in his voice, "The wand chooses the wizard and I guess these two have made their choice. Now tell us what's going on. Why have all the muggle-borns lost their magic?"

Rowena shook her head. "They didn't lose it," she replied. "They never had it."

Draco let out a shout and Hermione gasped. "What do you mean, they never had it?" Ron questioned.

"I mean they never had any magic. It was given to them by this castle."

"How can a castle create magic?" Asked Hermione.

"It's like a gigantic magical generator," Rowena explained. She let out a frustrated groan at the bewildered looks she was getting. "Hogwarts generates magic and disperses it across the world. Muggle-borns are the people who are most susceptible to magical influence."

"Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor came up with the idea," she continued. "Helga Hufflepuff agreed to help in the end and Salazar Slytherin was tricked into participating. All four founders lent their magic to the generator, but when Slytherin found out what Hogwarts was doing he fought with the other three and tried to turn it off."

"Why couldn't he?" Ron asked. "If he helped create it, then why couldn't he just go and turn it off?"

"It's not that simple," she replied, "There were stipulations on turning the generator on and off."

"So all four of them could do it but it had to be all four?" Hermione questioned.

Rowena shook her head. "No, Godric made it more difficult. The generator would turn off when there was only one person of each line left, one Gryffindor, one Slytherin, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff. All of the founders had pretty large families, except Slytherin. In order to turn it off he'd have to go up against all of them and he wasn't stupid. Once the generator was shut down, to restart it all of the heirs would have to come together and work the magic again."

"Then we'll never get our magic back," Draco groaned, "The Dark Lord's the last of the Slytherin line."

"That's where things get bad," Rowena stated, "Call it a loophole or an oversight but it doesn't have to be all four to turn it on, only the last to turn it on, which means Voldemort could kill us all off and use Hogwarts any way he wants to. He knows all about what this castle is capable of. If the muggle-borns have lost their magic, then only the last of each line is left, so unless we can get Voldemort to agree to help us…"

"I have to kill him," Harry finished.

Rowena nodded. "Then there would only be three and no one in the Slytherin line to stand against us."

"But why would Voldemort really want to get his hands on Hogwarts?" Ron questioned. "The muggle-borns have lost all their magic, isn't that what he's wanted all along?"

"Think about it Ron," Hermione broke in fervently, "Hogwarts is a giant magical generator, if he could tap into that…" Her voice trailed off.

"But that means we could tap into it to? Couldn't we?" Harry looked at the group expectantly.

The corners of Hermione's mouth turned up slightly into a small grin. "Isn't it obvious Harry? You already have been, why do you think you're having such problems with spells."

"It would make sense," Remus stated, "You're already the last of your line. You-Know-Who is probably tapping into the castle's magic as well since he's the last of Slytherin. Now we just have to find the last of Hufflepuff."

Harry's eyes went wide and he made a mad dash for the door.

"Where in Merlin's name are you going?" Ron exclaimed.

"To find Neville," Harry explained quickly before rushing off in search of his friend.

**DSz**

Severus stretched out over his couch, watching the mantle clock, watching and waiting. The clock rang out the hour and a small pop echoed through his sitting room. A red robed figure stood before him, face shrouded by a hood.

"It is done."

Severus nodded. "I know."

"You better know what you're doing."

He got up from the couch and leveled a glare at the other wizard. "How dare you? Do you think I would go to such lengths if they were not needed?"

The red robed figure cocked his head to the side. "What do you expect? You know I don't trust you. This plan of yours is crazy."

"It's not my plan," Severus hissed. "It's everyone's plan. This is our only chance."

"I know," the wizard shook his head, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it." He held out his hand and Severus dropped a locket into his palm.

"You know what to do."

The red robed man nodded under his hood and then pulled the chain around his neck. With a small pop he was gone, a small bit of mist left in his wake. Severus sighed and headed to his private potions' lab.


	22. This is a Test

_**Thus that which is the most awful of evils, death, is nothing to us, since when we exist there is no death, and when there is death we do not exist.**_

Neville sat alone in the Astronomy Tower, a crumpled piece of parchment clutched in one white knuckled hand. Tears streaked down his face and he choked back the scream that threatened to tear its way out of his throat. An ache grew in his chest and his stomach clenched tightly. Angrily he threw the parchment down and watched in surprise as it burst into flames, disappearing before his eyes.

"Neville, are you up here?" A soft voice called from the stairs.

Neville nodded silently and then remembered that Harry couldn't see him. "Yes, I'm up here," he whispered. Somehow the other wizard must have heard him because a moment later there was someone gripping his shoulder and pulling him close. He tried to turn away but felt too weak, dropping his hands to his sides in defeat.

"It's going to be okay," the soft voice said. He railed against that, yelling silently that nothing was ever going to be okay again. "I know that it doesn't feel that way now, but it will be."

He pushed Harry away. "They're all gone," he whispered, "My whole family is gone. Someone killed my parents and Gran killed herself, it was all in the letter." Neville pointed at the pile of ash. "Aberforth is gone too," he added. "Does Rowena know?"

Harry nodded. "I think she's figured it out, but I don't think it's really hit her yet. There's so much chaos that it's hard to know what's going on."

"The castle, the muggle-borns, Slytherin, Gran explained it all. What are we going to do Harry?" Neville turned to the other boy with pleading eyes. "It's just us now. There's no Dumbledore to help, Snape's gone bad and the muggle-borns are all powerless. I'm scared." Without a word Harry pulled Neville into a tight hug.

"This isn't like when we were younger," Neville stated urgently. "This is real Harry, people are going to die…people have died…"

"I've always known it was real," Harry interrupted sadly, "But it was easier to pretend that it was all an adventure."

"I wish this was a dream." Neville shook his head wildly. "Or a nightmare so I could wake up. I'm not a hero Harry, I'm not like you."

Harry chuckled under his breath. "You think I'm a hero?" He questioned in an amused tone. "I'm just as scared as you are."

"But you faced You-Know-Who already and you fought, you didn't give up."

"When I'm in danger and scared out of my wits," Harry admitted, "I think of my parents and Sirius and how brave they were. My mom fought to the very end and if she hadn't done that then I wouldn't be here today. Now I can add Dumbledore because I'm sure wherever he is he's watching us and he's going to help us any way he can."

Neville stared at the other boy disbelievingly. "Do you think he can really help us from beyond the veil?"

Harry nodded. "I don't think Dumbledore would ever abandon us." He stared off through the window where his mentor fell. "He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him."

**DSz**

Sergeant Owens growled under his breath as he threw aside the flap on Woolford's tent. He found the witch inside packing her things into a faded green duffel bag. She didn't seem to notice his presence as she slowly picked up her meager possessions and carefully stowed them away.

"First Sergeant Woolford!" Sergeant Owens shouted angrily. "Can you please explain your dereliction of duty? I have half a mind to have you court martialed."

Woolford turned to him with dead eyes, a look not unfamiliar to the old war-weary Sergeant. "My magic is gone," she stated as she held out her now useless staff, "I'm not even a witch anymore, I'm completely useless."

Owens took the staff from her and threw it to the ground at his side. "Do you think that fancy stick is what makes you a great marine? Do you think its lots of fancy spells and magic tricks?" Woolford stared down at her feet.

"I've got whole units missing," he continued, "Some of my best people have been killed, now add to that this mess with muggle-borns losing their magic." Owens grasped the woman's shoulders tightly. "You aren't here because you're a witch and you're not here because of magic. You're here because you're a part of the Marine Corps of the United States of America. Look at me Woolford."

She looked up and met his hard glare. "You are a marine Woolford and I ought to slap you across the Atlantic and back to make sure you get it through your thick skull. I hate to give compliments, but you're one of my best and I need all of my best right now." He could see the exact moment the spark returned to her bright, brown eyes.

"But how can I help now?" Woolford questioned and Owens could see the spark start to dim.

"You can help by remembering that you're more than this." He gestured to her staff lying next to their feet. "There are two things that make a great marine, this," he pointed to her head, "and this." He pointed to her heart.

Suddenly a marine burst into the tent, throwing his hand up immediately into a salute. "I'm sorry sir, but this can't wait."

"What is it Anderson?" Owens questioned, trying not to roll his eyes.

"We've found one!" Anderson explained between breaths.

Owens and Woolford exchanged confused looks. "What exactly have we found Anderson?"

"A horcrux," Anderson whispered reverently, "A real horcrux."

Owens took a deep breath to settle his nerves. "And where is it now Private Anderson?"

"The scientists have it now," he stated.

"First Sergeant Woolford, can I trust you to oversee this new development?" Owens questioned commandingly.

Woolford's lips turned up into a small grin. "You can count on me sir," she replied assuredly. "Anderson, retrieve Potter and his friends from the school, I have a feeling we'll need their help. Bring them to tent number thirteen at command post two."

Anderson gave a quick nodded and rushed off. With a final soft pat on Woolford's shoulder, Owens stalked away, leaving Woolford alone in her tent. She took a deep breath and looked down at her wand, still strapped to her side. She didn't have the heart to take it off so she left it in its holster, a good reminder of what she'd be fighting for.

**DSz**

Draco sat at a table in the library, staring down at it moodily, hoping that this nightmare would soon be over. A large bang caused him to start and he looked up to find a large tome in front of him.

"If you're just going to sit there and sulk then you can do some reading as well," Hermione stated, giving him an annoyed look.

"What's the use?" He grumbled. "I'm just a muggle now. Might as well get used to it."

Hermione slammed her palms down onto the table angrily. "What kind of attitude is that? You're just like your father, always looking for the easy way. Life isn't always easy Draco, sometimes you have to fight for what you believe in…for what's right."

"That's just it," Draco replied, "I've always thought I was right and now I've found out that I've been living a lie."

Hermione smirked. "You are what you've always hated. I have to agree it is ironic but nothing to Avada yourself over. Harry's not a pureblood but he's got more magical power then twenty of them combined. I'm a muggle-born and I've got more spell knowledge then any pureblood witch or wizard."

"None of this matters now," she continued, "Because now we have a mystery to solve and lives may depend on it. So what are you going to do Draco? Curl up and hide or rise to the occasion."

"We're not even muggle-borns anymore," Draco interrupted, "Now we're just muggles."

Hermione nodded and smiled evilly. "And no one thinks muggles can do anything," she added, "So why don't we show them what a couple of stubborn muggles are capable of?"

Draco hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement. "I suppose I could look through a few of these."

"Great," Hermione replied lightly, "When you're done with that one you can start on these." She gestured to a large stack of ancient looking books.

Draco stared in disbelief. "There's no such thing as death by reading, is there?"

"Not that I know of," Hermione hummed as she moved to study a shelf of books she hadn't gotten to yet, "But there are a few books in the Restricted Section that I'd watch out for."


	23. Immortality

**_"Immortality: A toy which people cry for, And on their knees apply for, Dispute, contend and lie for, And if allowed Would be right proud Eternally to die for."_**

The moment Harry stepped foot in tent number thirteen at command post two, he felt something strange in the air. A small, decrepit voice called out to him and a sharp pain tore through his scar. He unconsciously walked toward the sound of the voice, hoping to end the pain, but before he could get there two strong hands grasped his shoulders.

"Well, I think that proves it," Woolford stated assuredly. "It's definitely having an affect on Harry."

"What proves what?" Ron questioned in confusion.

"Harry's reaction proves that this," Woolford gestured to a small locket laying at the end of the table, "is a horcrux."

"Bloody hell," Ron mumbled, staring at the small piece of jewelry. He let out a small shout as Hermione elbowed him in the stomach.

"Language Ron," she muttered. "How do you know for sure it's a Horcrux?"

"I can answer that," a shrewd looking woman interrupted. Hermione recognized the witch, it was Dr. Naturely, one of the scientists who had been so rude to her before. She couldn't help but glare as the doctor began her explanation.

"First we ran a few magical scans over the item. We were surprised when it did not give us the readings we expected. Instead of detecting wards or charms, we detected an aura more attune to what a witch or wizard would normally emit."

"Really," Hermione questioned, her angry expression turning to one of pure curiosity. "May I see the results?"

Dr. Naturely looked surprised for a moment, but handed over a stack of papers that looked like computer printouts. "The first ten were from our initial surface scan, the rest were taken by core analysis."

"How did you…"

Ron suddenly broke in, pointing at the locket wildly. "I recognize that thing! It was at Grimmauld Place."

"What?" Harry stepped over and lifted the locket, completely ignoring the pain in his scar.

"Yeah, I remember it, I'm certain," Ron continued. "It was a heavy thing with an 'S' on it and not even the twins could get it open."

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "If we can't get it open, then how do we destroy it?"

"Well, we're working that out now," explained Dr. Naturely. "I'm sure it will take a few days to work out exactly…"

"Gryffindor's sword," Harry interrupted. "That's how we do it."

"How do you figure that?" Ron questioned.

"In second year, I destroyed Riddle's diary with a Basilisk fang," Harry explained. "Gryffindor's sword is covered in the stuff, that's what Dumbledore used to destroy the ring."

Woolford nodded and gestured for the teens to lead the way. "Let's get this over with. Then it will be three down and four to go."

"I wonder what the other ones are," Hermione mulled aloud. "The locket is obviously from the Slytherin line."

"Voldemort tried to get Gryffindor's sword but he never got a chance," Harry added. "I know he got Hufflepuff's cup, but I'm not sure what he would have found of Ravenclaw's. Then there's Nagini, that will be the toughest one."

"There has to be one more after that," Woolford put in, "I wonder what it could be?"

Ron shared a look with Hermione as he grasped her hand behind Harry's back. They both had come to the same conclusion as to what the last horcrux would most likely be, but they had yet to share their idea with Harry. Hermione swallowed past a hard lump in her throat as she looked at her raven-haired friend. She hoped that they were wrong…very, very wrong.

**DSz**

"Who would like to hear a story?" Elsie asked the curious young children that sat in a semi-circle around her feet.

"I do, I do," most of them yelled as one. A few merely stared at the air in front of them, still confused by the events of the last few days.

Elsie smiled sadly, knowing that things would not get easier for most of them. Many were children of muggle-borns, like her and her husband Stanley. They couldn't understand why their parents were so upset and sad. The rest of the children, the ones from magical families, were just as confused after being uprooted from their homes. A few were now orphans.

"So what story should I tell, hmm?"

"Harry Potter," a little boy yelled loudly.

"Yes, I think I remember that story," Elsie stated with a grin. "Who else would like to hear this story?" A sea of little hands appeared in the air. "Well, then I will tell the story of little Harry Potter."

She looked to her right and was surprised to see an older boy sit down to listen in as well. He was a big boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He sent her a little wave and she smiled in return.

"Would you like to hear the story too?" She asked and the older boy nodded. "Very well, here is the story of Harry Potter. Many years ago there was a very bad wizard who went all over the countryside and did very nasty things."

"That means he killed people!" One of the little brown-haired boys shouted.

Elsie nodded. "Yes, he did nasty things like that because he was evil and dark. So one day a group of good wizards got together and decided to fight against him. Does anyone know what the group is called?"

"The Order of the Phoenix! I know because my mum's in it!" A little girl waved her hand and sat up proudly. A few of the children sitting around her looked at her in awe.

"Exactly right," Elsie continued. "And that order worked tirelessly to stop the dark wizard but the good wizard Dumbledore was not powerful enough to stop him, he could only scare him away. All of the good witches and wizards were very scared and sad because no one could save them and then one night a prophecy was made."

"What did it say?" A little boy questioned.

"No one knows for sure, but many think that it said that a boy would be born and he would have the power to defeat that evil wizard. Well, the evil wizard heard about this boy that would be born and he decided that he didn't want to let the boy grow up into a powerful wizard. Dumbledore knew that the evil wizard would go after the parents of the boy so he hid them away."

"But their friends told the dark wizard," a little girl broke in.

Elsie nodded. "Yes, one of their very good friends knew where they were hiding and he told the dark wizard. So the dark wizard waited until Halloween and then he went after the Potter family when the little boy was only a year old. James Potter tried to stop the evil wizard, but he was struck down." The children leaned in closer as she continued. "Then Lily Potter grabbed her little babe and ran upstairs. The dark wizard followed her and shouted for her to give up her baby."

"But she didn't," a very small blonde-haired little girl stated confidently.

"No, she didn't," Elsie said, shaking her head. "Instead she told the evil wizard to take her and spare her child, but the wizard was so evil that he killed her and still went after her child. And do you know what happened next?" None of the children spoke. "The curse that the evil wizard shot at the little boy bounced back and hit the wizard, leaving the little boy with nothing but a scar shaped like a lightning bolt in the middle of his forehead. And what was that boy's name?"

"Harry Potter," they shouted in unison.

"That's right, his name is Harry Potter. And I'll tell you a secret." The children scooted closer to her feet. "Harry Potter is the one who came to Hogsmeade and saved my husband and I and our little grandbaby. He and his friends came and gave us a wonderful coat that made us invisible so that we could sneak here to Hogwarts."

The children stared at her in disbelief. Finally a little brown-haired boy no older then ten, shyly raised his hand. Elsie motioned for him to speak, smiling reassuringly.

"Why didn't Harry Potter save my brother then? The Death Eaters got him. And they got our neighbors too, why didn't he save them?"

Elsie swallowed hard and collected her thoughts. "Harry Potter is just one wizard," she explained slowly. "He can, of course, not be everywhere at all times. Instead we must be happy with the help he offers and we must offer help in return." The children all looked up with confused expressions on their little faces. "There are many things that even you children can do to help."

"Like what?" A few asked loudly.

"Like listening to your parents." Most rolled their eyes at that, but Elsie continued on. "It is important for you to listen to them because if there is danger then they will tell you what to do. If the bad men come to your house, or here to Hogwarts, and your parents tell you to run and hide, then you should do it immediately."

"There are other things we can all do," she stated with renewed conviction. "We can all make sure we stay strong and vigilant. We can help one another when we are in trouble. We can help those that need our help even with small things. Yesterday I saw many of you handing out goblets of water and plates of food, isn't that helping?"

"But it's not really important, is it?" A little boy questioned.

"Of course it is!" Elsie exclaimed. "How will good wizards and witches fight against the bad if they are hungry and thirsty?" Suddenly a hush fell over the children and Elsie wondered if her message had finally sunk in, but then one of the girls squealed, "It's Harry Potter!" And then all the children were crowded around the young man. Elsie couldn't help but sigh in relief.

"I just thought I'd stop by and check on things down here in the hall," he explained before turning to Elsie. "Have you seen Remus or Professor McGonagall?"

Elsie shook her head. "I think they're down in the dungeons setting up temporary rooms for everyone. I told Minerva that I would watch over this lot."

"Are you all being good for Mrs. Panos?" Harry questioned and all of the children nodded immediately, giant smiles on their grubby faces.

"Wow, is that a real sword?" One of the boys questioned as he reached toward the ruby encrusted weapon strapped to Harry's hip.

Harry nodded. "It sure is. It's Godric Gryffindor's sword."

"Who's that?" The boy asked.

Harry turned to Elsie. "Sounds like it's time for another story," he suggested with a grin before bounding off down the hall, waving back at the kids as he left.

"Wow, that was really Harry Potter," one of the little girls squeaked.

Finally the older blonde boy sitting at Elsie's right spoke up. "That's my cousin," he stated and all of the childred 'oohed' and 'aahed' while he looked down the hall, a proud smile on his face.


	24. The Big Test

_**"What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal."**_

The group stared down at the broken locket as Ron hesitantly poked at it with his wand. Harry was sure it had been destroyed, feeling an overwhelming sense of distress as he hacked through it with Gryffindor's sword. A sharp pain shot through his scar. Apparently Voldemort had felt the horcrux's destruction. Harry frowned at that, knowing that the Dark Lord was now alerted to the fact that someone, somewhere, was destroying the scattered bits of his soul.

"Well, that's that then," Ron sighed. "One more down and," he counted on his fingers, "four more to go."

Harry grimaced and sheathed his sword. "It'll get harder now. Ol' Voldie knows what we're up to and it's going to make him desperate."

"You don't think he'll attack the school, do you?"

"Who knows?" Harry shrugged. "Eventually he will, if only to get to me."

"Let's think positively," suggested Hermione, "Remember, you've got something that Voldemort hasn't." Ron and Harry looked at her questioningly. "Friends of course." She smacked both their shoulders.

"That's true Harry," Ron added, rubbing his shoulder tenderly, "We'll always be right behind you, no matter what."

"Thanks guys," Harry responded sincerely. "Let's go down and grab a bite in the kitchens." The three teens nodded in agreement and headed for the door.

Woolford cleared her throat. "I'll just go inform everyone that the horcrux has been destroyed." Carefully she pushed the remnants of the locket into a sealable plastic baggy. "I'm sure those eggheads will want to study this thing."

The kitchens were a chaotic mess. House-elves raced from one end to the other, stirring pots and filling plates. Every so often a platter would sparkle and then disappear, headed off to the Great Hall. The three looked around wide-eyed as the smiling elves went about their work. Suddenly Harry felt someone behind him and two small hands dropped over his eyes.

"Guess who," a lilting voice asked.

Harry's lips quirked into a small smile. "Cho Chang," he guessed in an innocent tone. His breath was knocked away a moment later by a small fist connecting with his side. "Hey, what was that for?"

An angry Ginny Weasley came to stand in front of him, arms crossed over her chest. He couldn't help but notice how cute she looked when she was cross, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.

"You know exactly what that was for Harry Potter," she grumbled. "What are you three doing down here?"

"Came to get a bite," Ron replied, "What are you doing down here?"

Ginny sighed. "Mom dragged me down to help. There's too many people to feed."

A familiar looking man with dark hair and warm brown eyes stepped around the corner. An apron was wrapped around his waist and he carried a large bag of flour over one shoulder. He carried it across the kitchen with determination and then set it down with a loud sigh. Harry stepped over, looking at the man curiously.

"Don't I know you?"

The man turned toward Harry, eyes wide in surprise. "Mr. Potter!" He exclaimed excitedly causing all of the house elves to gasp in surprise. "Stanley Panos," he stated, thrusting a large hand out to the young man. "You saved my family in Hogsmeade. I owe you my life." His tone was so sincere that Harry noticed Hermione wiping a tear away.

"It was no big deal," Harry said and then cringed at the sound of it. "No, I don't mean that. It is a big deal. Everything is." He threw up his hands in frustration. "That's not what I mean. I mean, you're welcome."

Stanley smiled widely and slapped Harry on the back. "It is good you're here. You want something to eat, yes?" He nodded at the same time as Harry and gestured toward a low table off in the corner.

Dobby suddenly popped up at Harry's side, tugging at his robes madly. "What can Dobby be doing for Master Harry Potter?"

"Helly Dobby, just some sandwiches and pumpkin juice will be fine."

"Of course Master Harry Potter, sir," Dobby squeaked. He snapped his fingers and instantly the table was loaded down with platters full of sandwiches and goblets full of pumpkin juice.

"How did you do that?" Harry questioned, not expecting an answer.

"Magic Master Harry Potter," Dobby replied with a wink. "Just a bit of magic." And for a moment Harry could sense a strange kind of intelligence buried within the small elf's large watery eyes. The moment was broken as Ron bounded over to the table and snatched up a sandwich in each hand.

"I'm starving," he pronounced loudly.

Ginny snorted. "When are you not?"

**DSz**

An hour later they were still in the kitchens, laughing and throwing bits of bread at one another. These were the moments that really mattered, at least that's how Harry felt. If anything made him different then Voldemort, then it was the fact that he could still be human and do human things, while Voldemort was a monster and probably hadn't done anything close to human in a very long time.

Suddenly the door to the kitchens swung open and Remus came rushing through. "Harry," he wheezed while attempting to catch his breath. "You-Know-Who…he's on the Wizarding Wireless."

The teens were off like a shot, Remus and Mr. Panos trailing behind them. Harry skidded to a halt at the entrance to the Great Hall, the sound of Voldemort's snakelike voice stopping him in his tracks. Someone must have charmed the radio because it echoed through the entire hall and out into the hallway. From the sound of it, the broadcast was just beginning.

"_To those hiding at Hogwarts, hiding behind the robes of a mere boy, you will not be able to hide forever. In less then six months I will topple the castle and execute all inside, unless you surrender immediately. The muggleborns will be sent to camps while the true witches and wizards will be reintegrated into society, after proving their loyalty of course. I feel my plan is logical and fair. The muggleborns no longer fit into our society due to their loss of magic but we cannot allow them to leave and share our secrets with muggles. The squibs will be sterilized so they will not be able to pass down their disease through generations._

_As for Harry Potter, or the Boy-Who-Lived as many call him, I will settle for a truce. There is no reason we cannot work together to secure a peaceful, yet strong, future for the wizarding world. We two, who are linked by prophecy and so much more, just think of all we could accomplish. I will wield the power and you will wield the compassion, two parts to a whole._

_I await your answer Mr. Potter. You have two days."_

The radio went quiet and Harry heard a click as it was turned off. A million thoughts ran through his jumbled mind as he looked around the room at the men, women and children. There were parts of what Voldemort had said that called out to Harry, urging him to see reason, to end this now before more people were hurt.

Could I do it? He asked himself. Could I come to an agreement with my greatest enemy? His eyes drifted to his best friend Ron, who was staring down at the floor in contemplation, then they drifted to Ron's sister, Ginny Weasley. This would save them, the Weasleys being purebloods; they could have a good life and a future. He could finally be with Ginny with no worries, no enemies, and no prophecy.

But then his eyes drifted the other way, pausing on Remus' haunted visage. A good man, who happens to be a werewolf, he'd never be accepted in the Dark Lord's new world. Stanley Panos stood next to the Marauder, a muggle-born wizard who now lacked magic. The man looked terrified, his brown eyes lost in memory.

Finally Harry's eyes came to rest on Hermione, her eyes calculating and calm. She knew his decision could damn her, could damn them all, but there wasn't anything in her expression that showed she was worried. If anything, she appeared to be slightly amused. With a start Harry realized why. Hermione didn't give him a questioning look, she didn't appear afraid or scared and it was because she knew exactly what Harry would do, and it wouldn't be siding with Voldemort.

Harry reached out and gave her hand a firm squeeze. "Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself," he stated fiercely. Hermione tilted her head slightly and offered him a small smile.

"You're going to have to say something mate," Ron urged. "Everyone's really afraid."

"I know," Harry replied with a nod before making his way through the crowd. Most people didn't even notice him until he was already standing up at the podium. This is where Dumbledore would have stood, Harry thought as he looked out at the shell-shocked group.

"Sonorus." He cast the charm on his throat so all could hear.

"It would be easy," he began, causing everyone to start in surprise and turn their attention to the young wizard standing before them. Harry cut an impressive image with the sword of Gryffindor hanging at his hip and his glittering green eyes catching the gaze of each man and woman.

"It would be easy to take Voldemort up on his offer," he continued, ignoring the reactions to the Dark Lord's name, "It would be easy to side with him and then this would all be over. Many of us were born to witches and wizards, we still have our magic, what do we have to worry about?"

By the expressions on the faces of many of the witches and wizards, he could tell that they were agreeing with what he'd just said. "Of course, we'd have to watch our friends be carted away to Merlin knows where, to have Merlin knows what done to them. But that's a small price to pay, isn't it? For safety and security? And of course, we all know that the Dark Lord is known for safety and security. Surely we can trust him." The last part came out in a cruel sneer.

"Look to the person at your right." Everyone did as he commanded. "Now look to the person to your left." Once again the group complied. "One or both are most likely muggleborns, so look closely because you're considering sending them to their doom. Do you think Voldemort's going to just take them away and let them live out their lives in peace?"

"Extermination," Harry snarled and he noticed that everyone appeared horrified by the word, "That's what Voldemort is working toward. He thinks muggleborns are weak, he thinks muggles are weak, and so they should be destroyed. I say, that's why they should be protected."

"What's the use of having power if you don't use it to protect those who are powerless? Would you drown a babe? Would you execute the elderly? Would you cast away those that you don't find worthy?" He rattled off the questions and he could see by their expressions that his point was getting through.

"I am not a god," Harry stated, pounding his fist against the podium, "Voldemort is not a god. We don't have the right to decide who lives and who dies, none of us do. So I will not join the Dark Lord, instead I will fight until my last breath against all that he stands for."

"I plan on speaking with the American president and asking for refugee status for all muggleborns, squibs and wizarding folk who can't or won't fight. Anyone who wishes to leave, will be able to and anyone who wishes to fight, will be welcome to stay. You'll have a day to make your decision, so think carefully. In two days the floo network will be closed for good and there will be no travel in or out of Hogwarts." There was a spattering of chatter at that and quite a few worried expressions.

Harry sighed and looked down for a moment, wondering what Dumbledore would say to inspire all of these scared and frightened people. After everyone quieted, he slowly looked up and scanned the crowd. A smiling Luna Lovegood waved at him, nudging a man next to her that Harry assumed was Luna's father. Harry gave a small wave in return and then continued to scan the large group.

He stopped when his eyes met Rowena's. Her glasses were hanging from the front pocket of her robes, leaving her twinkling blue eyes bare to the world. Harry fell into those eyes and felt a strange sense of calm wash over him from head to toe. It was if someone had suddenly whispered in his ear and he new exactly what he needed to say.

"I've defeated Voldemort before," he stated strongly, "I've defeated him before and I can do it again. Before Dumbledore died, he showed me the way to defeat the Dark Lord and I plan on seeing it through, but I can't do that without help. This war will be rough and none of us are guaranteed to come of it alive." He was starting to lose them.

"But," he said loudly, "You will live on in the memories of those that you've saved. You will live on in the hearts and minds of the children who will once again fill this school. You will live on in the muggles that never knew you existed, but were saved by you. I will fight this war even if I have to do it myself because I'm willing to sacrifice everything for a way of life that I love, a way of life I can't stand the thought of losing."

"Death doesn't scare me," he stated with all sincerity, "but the thought of losing everything I love…the thought of damning all those in the future…that frightens me more than a thousand deaths and a thousand tortures."

Harry moved around to stand in front of the podium. His robes rustled around him, but there was no breeze. Those standing in front drew closer, basking in the power and strength that exuded from the young wizard. Harry didn't notice any of this though; his mind was far away, lost to something bigger than all of this.

"I swear a Wizard's Oath," Harry began and he vaguely heard Hermione's shout of protest from the back of the hall. "I swear a Wizard's Oath to never rest until Voldemort is destroyed." A bright gold glow descended upon the teen.

Hermione stood in the doorway to the Great Hall, a hand held over her mouth. In her mind, she railed against what Harry had done. Surely he wasn't serious, perhaps he didn't understand what he was doing, but she knew she was wrong. Something powerful was guiding Harry in this, something bigger than all of them. It was directing Harry, pushing him toward some wonderful, or terrible, end.


	25. A lonely death

_**The surest defense against Evil is extreme individualism, originality of thinking, whimsicality, even-if you will-eccentricity. That is, something that can't be feigned, faked, imitated; something even a seasoned imposter couldn't be happy with.**_

"What of Draco, Severus?"

Severus stared directly into his Master's eyes. "The boy fled when he realized his magic had abandoned him."

"And Narcissa?"

"I have not seen her. I can only assume she fled with her son."

Voldemort scratched his pale white chin thoughtfully. "I am not usually one to be surprised by even the strangest of events, but this…this has been a shock. Draco Malfoy, a muggle-born, I wonder if she ever informed Lucius."

"I would think not, my Lord."

"Pity we'll never be able to ask him." Severus schooled his features into an expression of mild curiosity and waited for the Dark Lord to explain. "Lucius lost his life at Azkaban."

"That is a pity," Severus commented, lips pressed together in a sly grin.

"Yes, Severus, a pity. He was my second, a confidant. Perhaps there is one in my ranks who can take his place." As he said this, he motioned for Severus to stand and take the place to his right.

"This place," Voldemort motioned to the spot next to his throne, now occupied by Snape. "it should have been yours to begin with. It has always been you in the shadows and you providing the information needed to cripple my enemies. In you, I see much of myself. We are both snakes Severus."

Severus gave a small nod. "It is an honor, my Lord."

**dSz**

The President of the United States of America was never one to be surprised. In the five years since he'd first taken office, he felt as if he'd seen anything and everything. Being friends with some of the world's most eccentric and powerful people will do that to a person.

So when a young dark-haired man suddenly shot out of his fireplace in the middle of the night, he barely flinched. His wife, on the other hand, did give a small cry and a large group of secret service agents burst into the room, pistols out and aimed at the mysterious youth. The President waved them off, ordering them to holster their weapons.

"Put 'em down boys," he ordered as he flipped the switch on the small lamp next to his bed. The teenager brushed off his long black robes and ran a hand through his messy hair. When he looked up, the President's heart skipped a beat. Apparently there were things in this world that could still surprise him. "Harry Potter," he whispered.

The Secret Service men dropped their arms to their sides, mouths agape. They'd all heard that name. Each man and woman had sat in countless meetings where this boy was talked about in an almost reverent tone. Two of the service men, being wizards themselves, holstered their weapons immediately and had to hold themselves back from shaking the young man's hand.

"I'm sorry for dropping in at such a late hour," Harry stated apologetically, "But…" He was interrupted by a green flare.

Sergeant Owens stepped out of the fireplace and scanned the room, an angry expression on his stoic face. "I'm sorry Mr. President, I tried to explain to Mr. Potter that there are proper channels of communication."

"Not a problem Sergeant Owens," the President replied amiablly before turning to Harry. "If you would make yourself at home in the den, I'll be right there."

As he watched the men move to the next room, a sharp feeling of panic rose up inside his chest. He squashed it down with experience. There was no reason to get excited over a situation that had not yet presented itself. Given the proper amount of thought, every problem has a solution. Albus Dumbledore had told him that and he firmly believed it with all his heart.

"Was that really Harry Potter?" He heard his wife question in a quiet whisper.

"It sure looked like it. Do you want me to ask for his autograph?" His wife smacked him playfully on the arm. "Okay, no autograph then. I suppose I could try and get him together with Chelsea, they are about the same age." He chuckled at his wife's almost hopeful look. "I'm joking. I don't think he's got time to think about girls anyway."

She nodded her head sadly. "Such a strange way to run things, putting all their hopes on such a young man. I don't understand why the British government doesn't step in and do something."

"They can't help, they wouldn't even know where to start. The muggle world and magical world split for them a long time ago and they've never tried to bring them together. I do understand secrecy, like the kind we have here, but their ideas seem so…extreme."

"Well hurry up, don't keep the boy waiting."

"Yes ma'am," he chuckled while pulling a threadbare sweatshirt over his head.

"That's what you're wearing to meet Harry Potter?" She looked at the bright green shirt with disgust.

The President rolled his eyes. "I don't think he's going to care what I'm wearing. I'm not going to a dinner party."

As he stepped into his cozy den, he paused for a moment, temporarily bemused by the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived paging through yesterday's paper and sipping on a Coke. With a little shrug at the ridiculousness of it all, the leader of the free world strode to the other side of the coffee table and sat down in his favorite recliner. Leaning forward, he waited for the young wizard to notice his presence.

"See anything interesting?" He questioned, making the boy jump in surprise.

"Sorry, sir. Didn't notice you there."

"Rough night?"

Harry sighed. "Not the worst but not the best, sir."

"Well Mr. Potter, what brings you here at such a late hour?" He steepled his fingers and waited for the young man to reply.

"I need help," Harry blurted out stupidly and then shook his head. "Sorry, that didn't come out right. You've already given enough help with the soldiers and the scientists, but we've got muggle-borns and children and people who can't fight and we need somewhere to send them before the Dark Lord attacks Hogwarts."

The President leaned back in his La-Z-Boy and rubbed a caloused hand over his mouth. It seemed too soon for these things. Just a year ago he had been bowling with Dumbledore, discussing politics and world conflicts. Albus had been full of life, as usual, giving no hint of the perilous position the wizarding world now found itself in.

He reached over and pressed a large red button on the phone on the end table. It was the speed-dial for his personal assistant. After a few rings, a sleepy voice answered. "Can I help you sir?"

"Sorry for waking you Miss Adams, but I need your assistance in my den. Can you pick up Ted and Martin on your way?"

There was a moment's pause. "Of course sir. I'll get right on that."

The President turned back to Harry. "I understand that you're having trouble, but you need to understand that in order to bring your people to the United States, they've got to have refugee status, which means they need to apply for refugee status."

"But won't that take time."

"Yes," he nodded. "But if they can get here, then they're considered asylum seekers and they'll have one year to complete the required paperwork."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Then I just need to find a way to get them here. But they'll also need places to stay and food and…"

The President held a hand up. "Let's think all of this through. You're sure that Voldemort will attack Hogwarts." Harry nodded.

"He's already taken a lot of the muggle-borns. No one knows where and with the Ministry destroyed, there's no one to go out looking. I don't know what to do, sir. I'm no Minister of Magic. I don't know what decisions to make or what needs to be done. I need help." He gave the man a pleading look.

"Then I'll do my best to help in any way I can. There are a lot of wizarding charity groups here that can help these people once they get here. We'll take care of them while you work on getting rid of this Voldemort character. You're not alone, Harry. I've got a fairly large military force at my command and I will send them where they're needed."

It was then that Harry noticed the man's hand travel to his pocket, where a wooden stick was poking out. "Is that a wand?" He questioned brazenly.

The President nodded, blushing slightly. "I don't know why I still carry it around. Not much use now."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You're a wizard!"

"A muggle-born," the older man explained, his eyes hardening.

**DSz**

Kingsley's tired eyes scanned the darkness. A sound to his right caught his attention immediately and he instinctually went for his wand, only to discover it was no longer in his pocket. He reached out to grab whatever or whoever was making the noise, but pulled back only air.

"Who's there?"

"Mon dieu!" A deep voiced exclaimed. "You have awoken finally!"

"Yes," Kinglsey replied, his voice harsh sounding and faint. "Where am I?"

"Le camp," the voice stated, "The place for those like me, but not those like you."

"Like me?"

"Oui, you are a British auror. I am but a lowly muggle-born, no better than dirt to these wizards. But you…you are like them."

Kingsley shook his head. "Not like them…never like them." He began to fall and immediately hands reached out through the darkness to hold him steady.

"Please sir, sit and rest." Kingsley did as he was told.

"Where is this place?"

The thin, pale man shrugged underneath his too large brown robes. Kingsley was disturbed by the man's gaunt appearance and shaved head. A strange black mark rested on the man's pale shoulder, but Kingsley could not make it out.

"What is that?" He questioned, pointing at the blurry mark.

"Mon nombre," the man spat. "The number I was branded with. It's how they keep track of one such as me."

"The camp is out there?"

The man shook his head. "No, we are in it. This cage," he motioned to the air around them. "Is where I have lived for months. You cannot see it, it is too dark here."

"Months?!" Kingsley exclaimed. "How is that possible? Why hasn't anyone come looking? How many people are here?"

"It is hard to tell," he answered with a shrug. "They bring more in every day, but none ever leave. The children, they take away and the old ones, they kill. Some, like me, they keep in the cages."

"But someone must know this is here, someone must know you people are missing!"

The man shook his head sadly. "No one knows. No one is coming. This place…une mort solitaire."

"What?"

"A lonely death," the pale man translated softly. "Now get some sleep my friend. You are awake and surely they know this, tomorrow they will come and you will need your strength."

Kingsley swallowed hard. "Who will come?"

"The Death Eaters and the Dementors," the man replied in a pitiful tone. He rubbed his hands across his arms. "The Dementors are worse, I think. They bring such cold, one feels they will never be warm again."


	26. The Power He Knows Not

_**Love is everything it's cracked up to be...It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for - Erica Jong**_

Ginny sat quietly on a giant boulder next to the lake. It was quiet and dark, the moon providing the only light. She came here often during the school year, when she needed time to herself to think. Usually she would contemplate problems past and present, but tonight all her worries lay in the future. She had always thought of herself as strong and confident, ready to face any problem head on, but recent events were beginning to erode that confidence and strength. A cold tendril of despair was making its way into her heart. She shivered unconsciously and was surprised when a warm cloak dropped over her shoulders.

"Hermione finally let you leave the library, eh?" Harry questioned, eyes flashing with amusement.

Ginny nodded. "She's still up there though with more than enough help. I think Madam Pince is helping as well. They'll have the whole library copied and packed away by tomorrow night."

"That's good, I was afraid three days wouldn't be enough time."

She gave him a curious look. "So, what was it like meeting the President of the United States?"

Harry shrugged. "He was very nice and nothing like Fudge," he spat the name as if a bug had flown into his mouth. "He reminded me a lot of Dumbledore, actually. Even wore the most garish green shirt I've ever seen." Ginny giggled into her hands.

"I love watching the lake," Harry stated as his eyes stared out into the darkness. He pointed at the boulder beneath her. "This is my favorite place to sit, always has been, ever since my first week at Hogwarts."

Ginny blushed as she stared up at his pale face and bright green eyes. Harry had always been a very closed off individual, fighting internal battles and keeping his feelings to himself. It was only when they were alone that he allowed part of his true self to show through and she didn't take these special moments lightly.

"When I stepped through the doorway of Dumbledore's will, this is where it took me," he continued, voice full of emotion. Ginny reach out instinctively and grasped his hand. Scooting over, she pulled him down to sit. "We sat on this very spot and looked out on the lake. There were students laughing and milling about. Hogwarts was alive with magic and mischief."

Harry's voice trailed off into the night and she gave him a concerned look. "Voldemort means to kill my home," he explained darkly. "He's already begun to poison it, I can feel it crying out but I'm helpless."

"No you're not!" Ginny exclaimed. "Don't think like that Harry, never think that way. You're not helpless, none of us are truly helpless, and we've just got to work together." She turned his face until their eyes met. "You're just as strong and powerful as he is." His eyes shuttered slightly at the comparison, but Ginny continued on. "And you're so much more. You're brave and kind and caring and…"

She was cut off sharply as Harry's lips met her own. He had pulled her close so quickly that she barely had time to react. The kiss was long and desperate, like two lovers who feared they would soon be lost to each other forever. He was the first to pull away and Ginny slowly opened her eyes. His green stare penetrated her and she felt as if she were falling into an abyss, but she couldn't look away, she couldn't end this one perfect moment.

"Ginny." Harry said her name in a husky, deep tone. "I need you to do something for me."

She bit her lip to keep from crying out. The favor he was about to ask was too difficult to think about. Ginny knew it would come up eventually, but still her heart and soul railed against it, wishing for things to be different, wishing he wouldn't ask.

"I need you to go with them and protect them."

"No," she whispered sadly. "I can't leave you. I can help..."

Harry shook his head. "I need someone I can trust to go with them and protect them."

Tears were falling freely down her cheeks and she made no move to wipe them away. "Don't lie to me," she whined pathetically. "That's not the reason, not the real reason."

"You're right, it's not," he admitted sadly.

Ginny's eyes went wide. She hadn't expected him to admit it so readily. "Then why? Do you think I'm weak?"

"Never," came the fierce reply. "You're the strongest witch I've ever met and I've met Bellatrix Lestrange so that's really saying something." The corners of her mouth twitched into a small grin. He smiled down at her sadly. "There are two reasons." She gazed at him expectantly.

"You're the one I'm fighting for," he explained and her heart instantly melted. "The thought of a future without you in it," he stalled, the powerful words catching in the back of his throat. Shaking his head, he looked away for a moment. "I don't even want to think about it."

"And the other," Ginny pressed.

A soft smile appeared and he gently pressed a palm against her cheek. "If I had to make a decision between saving you and saving the world." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I'll always choose you."

**dSz**

Hermione rushed around the library shouting orders. A large group of muggle-borns, squibs, witches and wizards scurried between the shelves, some pulling books out and some returning books to their proper places. Each book was copied, the original packed away and the copy put back on the shelf where the original had been. It was all Hermione's idea of course. Many of the old tomes were one of a kind and she'd be damned if she let Voldemort get his hands on them. This way, the originals would be safe and if, Merlin forbid, Voldemort managed to fight his way into the castle, the copies could easily be destroyed.

At first she planned to merely pack away the originals and send them off with those leaving in three days, but she needed those books, especially the rare ones. There was too much research that still needed to be done on the remaining horcruxes and the workings of the castle. She knew the information she needed was here, probably somewhere deep in the Restricted Section, but here nonetheless, and she would find it.

"Ugh, my arms are going to fall off," Draco complained for the hundredth time, "Where's the Weasel, why isn't he helping?"

"He's working with the aurors and soldiers," Hermione exclaimed snappishly, "They're coming up with a plan to evacuate the muggle-borns."

Draco set the large box he was carrying near the door and gave Hermione a questioning look. "Will you be going too?"

"Of course not," she replied as if he'd just asked the dumbest question ever, "I've got research to do here, I can't just abandon Harry and Ron."

Draco bit his lip. "I might go."

The silence stretched between them like a rubber band, both completely oblivious to the frantic activity all around. Hermione cocked her head to the side and considered Draco's pensieve look, apparently he was waiting on her, scared that she would call him a coward. He didn't know her well enough to understand she would never do that; she is a Gryffindor after all. Besides that, she knew something that he didn't know.

"You should talk to Harry about your plans."

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. "Potter, why in the world would I ask for his advice?"

"He might have plans for you already."

Draco gulped audibly. So Potter had come up with some kind of plan for him in this war, probably as bait to draw out Death Eaters, or even a token of good will to the Dark Lord. No, Potter was a Gryffindor so he'd probably make him help in the Hospital Wing or the kitchens, something mundane and low class. It served him right after all. He'd always thought he was better than everyone, well how much better can he be arms elbow deep in dirty dishes.

"Perhaps I'll go and look for him now," Draco suggested warily.

"That would probably be best," Hermione agreed with a knowing smile.

The young Slytherin headed out of the library in search of his former nemesis. Draco couldn't really consider Potter an enemy anymore. The boy was still a wizard, while Draco was…something else. Whatever Draco was though, he knew he'd be powerless to stop the Boy-Who-Lived from exacting revenge if the Gryffindor so wished.

On his way to the Entrance Hall a sobbing redhead suddenly ran by, brushing him lightly on the shoulder. It was Ginny Weasley, he recognized immediately, but what had upset the girl so. He looked back to the way the Weasley girl had come and was surprised to see Potter leaning against the door to the castle. His green eyes were dark and far away.

"Making the girls cry Potter, not very Gryffindor of you," Draco sneered mockingly, but the jibe lacked its usual tone and fell flat.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted calmly, "I was coming to find you."

"Yes, Granger suggested you may have a job for me."

Harry nodded and motioned for the boy to follow him. After they'd gone down a few hallways, Draco realized he was being led to the dungeons and his heartbeat quickened. Surely Potter wasn't going to throw him into the dungeons; perhaps he'd make him clean the dungeons. Well, that wouldn't be so bad, Draco decided, Snape had made students do that all the time in detention.

They turned right down a familiar corridor and Draco was surprised to see the door to the Potions classroom open. A few older witches and wizards waved to Harry.

"Finished all that polyjuice," a blonde witch called out, "We're just starting on our secret weapon." She winked at them both.

"Sounds great Mildred," Harry called back. "I'm just taking this one down to the war room."

"War room?" Draco mouthed silently.

"See ya later," the witch replied with a jaunty wave.

"What are they brewing in there?" Draco asked quietly when they were farther down the corridor.

Harry shrugged. "Some potions that might be needed. Fred and George are in there so I'm sure they'll come up with something useful."

"Or blow Hogwarts sky high," Draco grumbled.

The war room was aptly named. Large white boards stood all around the room, uniformed men and women huddled around each one. In the middle was a large square table with various maps laid out. Draco immediately recognized Ron Weasley; the boy was speaking to a few soldiers as they studied one particular map very carefully. He turned his head a bit and was able to read the name at the top, Diagon Alley.

"You're going into Diagon Alley?" Draco questioned. "Are you mad?"

"No more than usual," Harry remarked before dragging the blonde forward.

"Hey Weasel," Draco greeted the redhead cordially.

"Ferret," Ron greeted, barely looking up at the other wizard. "Have you asked him yet Harry?"

"Just getting to it."

Ron's mouth was set in a deep frown so Draco assumed the Weasley boy wasn't too happy about whatever request Harry was planning to make.

"It's like this Draco," Harry stated matter-of-factly, "I'm sending Ginny with the refugees."

Draco's eyes widened in understanding. "So that's why she was sobbing like a first-year." The Weasel shot him a dirty look and Draco's mouth snapped shut.

"Yes, she was quite upset, but I can't let anything happen to her." Potter's eyes hardened until they resembled emeralds glinting in the torchlight. "She must be protected."

Draco shook his head. "You can't expect me to protect her, I'm a muggle now, remember?"

"I'm not worried about her physical safety, but I'm worried about her attempting to return to the castle. If she hears rumors that things get bad, she's going to try to return. I need you to stop her."

"Yeah," Weasley broke in, "Use that Slytherin sneakiness for good instead of evil."

Draco crossed his arms and gave them each a smug look. "And what's in it for me?"

Ron's eyes went back to the map. "If you don't, then I turn you into a ferret…permanently."

**DSz**

"Wake up please, Monsieur Shacklebolt."

Kingsley shielded his eyes from the bright light of the sun. "Call me Kingsley," he said, voice gruff and harsh. "I don't think you told me your name."

"You may call me Basile," the gaunt man replied. "You must wake now or you will not eat." Kingsley's stomach growled at that, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in days.

Body groaning every step of the way, Kingsley pushed up from the cold, hard ground. Looking down he noticed that the auror robes he had been wearing were now gone, replaced by a plain gray uniform, the exact uniform Basile was wearing.

"My clothes?"

"They came and switched them," Basile explained. "They do it while the prisoners are asleep. Now come along."

Basile pulled him toward a long line of frail looking men and women being watched by a large group of severe looking wizards. The line was longer than Kingsley could ever imagine. To think that all of these people were taken from their homes and it never came to anyone's attention, not the media or the Ministry, Kingsley shook his head sadly, times were getting worse than he ever believed they would be.

"How long have you been here Basile?"

The pale man scratched his chin. "I believe it's been at least six months, but I may have lost count."

"And have the lines always been this long?" Kingsley questioned.

Basile shook his head. "No, they were very short the first month, but grew longer the second. Now each day they continue to grow."

Kingsley noticed that some of the prisoners walked off with plates full of food and mugs full of water before they were herded back to their cages, while others were sent off with a mere crust of bread and a very small cup. When he and Basile finally made it to the front of the line, Basile was given a plate of food, while he was given bread. The gaunt man gave him a sad look before heading back to their cage.

"I am sorry my friend," Basile apologized sadly, "But you have your magic to sustain you, while I have none. It was not like this before. Mere days ago we all received only bread, but then we lost our magic and the bread would no longer keep us alive." He shook his head and stared down at his plate. "Many muggle-borns died in those first days."

"So what about them?" Kingsley asked and pointed to a large cage across the yard. It was full of men and women, but they were given nothing to eat.

"They are muggle-borns and have no magic, yet they still live even without food or water," Basile explained. "The guards are very much afraid of them and their strange magic."

Kingsley's brow furrowed. "But what makes them different, how do they survive if they have no magic to sustain them?"

Basile leaned forward and whispered directly into his ear. "They are bohémien."

"Bohémien? I don't understand."

Basile leaned in further. "Gypsies," he hissed, "The magic they wield is mysterious and strange, and that is why the Death Eaters fear them. Some can still do magic, even without a wand."

Kingsley perked up at this. "Then they could escape if they were to work together."

"No, they are too weak. They are never fed or given water, none since I have been here."

"No food or water for months!" Kingsley exclaimed quietly. "They should be dead."

Basile nodded and the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smirk. "Yes, they should be, but they are not and it vexes the Death Eaters greatly."

**DSz**

Petunia milled around the Hospital Wing, doing what she could to help in any little way. She, of course, couldn't use magic, but one didn't need magic to clean a bedpan or change out dirty sheets. No one, not even Vernon, knew that she'd at one time in her life considered becoming a nurse. Marriage and children took care of that dream though, she remembered with a sigh.

Tonight the wing was relatively silent for the first time since the trouble had started. There wasn't a bed empty, but there was no one without a bed. To accomplish this the Hospital Wing had been magically expanded to ten times its normal size.

One patient was resting in the private room in the back. She'd been told he was the Minister of Magic, the magical world's equivalent to a Prime Minister, and he'd been grievously injured. No one knew when or even if he'd recover. Petunia looked in on him every night, horrified and awed at the sight of him. Horrified at the damage that had been done to his body and awed at his continued survival. He was never awake for her visits, until tonight.

"Don't go," came the soft whisper from behind her and Petunia nearly jumped in shock. Slowly she turned to find two friendly eyes staring up at her from the hospital bed.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" She asked quietly.

The man shook his head. "No, I was already awake. It's bloody boring laying around all day and rarely do I get a visitor."

She crossed the room and sat down in the chair next to his bed. "It's been a bit busy around here. They're preparing to evacuate the castle."

He nodded. "Remus informed me," he sighed. "Such desperate measures, but these are desperate times. It was a good decision. Will you be leaving for America with the rest of them?"

The question caught her off guard and truly she hadn't even thought of it, but now that it was asked of her, she really didn't know how to answer. Surely she could leave and escape this horrid place filled with magic and danger. On the other hand, there was much to this world that she'd fallen in love with and these people weren't so different from non-magical people when one really looked at both groups objectively. Both married and had families, held jobs, had many of the same worries. Even war was the same, although she understood there was much more on the line in this magical war then there was in most muggle wars.

"Will you be going?" She asked, turning the question around.

The man immediately shook his head. "No, I wouldn't survive it and besides, I'm the Minister, I can't be seen running away. Although I don't know how much help I'll be, it seems Mr. Potter is the one we'll have to turn to now."

"Harry?" She questioned curiously. "I know he has to kill the Dark Lord, but what else can he do."

"He's got to run this war for one thing, he's the only one that can, and the only one they'll all rally around. Dumbledore was right in that, the old coot, he'd always known the truth of it. Trying to put a leash on Potter is like trying to lasso a dragon. Best let him fly free and do what he wants, more destructive that way." He chuckled underneath the thick bandages covering most of his face. "I don't think I formally introduced myself."

"I know who you are," Petunia interrupted, "I didn't know until someone told me. I have to admit that I'm not a hundred percent sure what a Minister of Magic does."

He started at that. "You don't know? Are you foreign then? You don't sound it."

Petunia shook her head. "No, I'm a muggle."

The Minister's eyes widened. "A muggle? What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"It's safer for us here now," she explained, "Dumbledore wrote us a letter and asked us to stay in the castle to keep us safe."

"But why would the Dark Lord be after you?"

Petunia stared down at her fingers. "I'm Petunia Dursley, Harry Potter is my nephew," she stated quickly.

A soft hand reached out to her and she grabbed it hesitantly. "My good woman, I am very honored to meet you."

She blushed. "Don't be. I can't take any credit for what Harry is, I haven't been a very good parent to him since he came to live with us."

"Well, you must have done something right, because that boy is the strongest and most courageous wizard I've ever met."

"It was Dumbledore," Petunia explained, but then paused and shook her head. "No, it wasn't Dumbledore." Her face scrunched up in confusion. "This is going to sound absurd, but I think its just Harry being Harry. He's always been that way, a good child and now a good man. I suppose I never saw it then because I was so afraid of what he was and what he could do. I was afraid because of what happened to Lily."

"Your sister," he nodded in understanding. "There's nothing wrong with fear as long as we don't let it control us."

Petunia nodded and gave him a fierce look. "Yes, I know that now. That's why I'm not leaving with the others. I'm going to stay and help here and if the worst happens…" Her words trailed off.

"Have faith in your nephew," Rufus stated in a strong and deep tone. "I do not fully understand the power he wields, but from the little I learned from Albus, it is a power the Dark Lord should truly fear."


	27. Hidden Talents

**_Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up. - Anne Lamott_**

Harry was dreaming. His body racing across field and oceans, coming to stop near a lake that looked suspiciously like the one near to Hogwarts. The forest, not to far away, looked familiar as well. He turned and was surprised to see what looked like a wall being built by a group of wizards.

"It will be beautiful, will it not?" A voice questioned. The voice belonged to a beautiful woman with long black hair. She wore half-moon glasses that reminded him of Dumbledore's.

"Surely it will be," he replied in a voice much deeper than his own. On a hunch he leaned over the water and peered at his reflection.

It wasn't Harry Potter staring back at him, that's for certain. The man in the lake stood tall and proud, chest covered in shiny armor. Gryffindor's sword hung at his hip, at the exact spot where Harry kept it in the real world. A mop of unruly black hair sat atop the man's head, so that part wasn't much different, but this man's eyes were a deep brown instead of bright green.

"You've spoken to Helga?" He turned and gave the woman a questioning look.

"I convinced her that our position was the correct one," she replied, watching him from over her half-moon glasses. "You know how convincing I can be Godric."

Harry instinctively moved his gaze to her cheek, steering clear of her twinkling blue eyes. "Of course Rowena, how could I ever forget?"

She slowly walked over to stand next to him, casting her eyes out to the setting sun. "Whether we have chosen the correct path, or not, there is no going back now."

"There is still Salazar," he commented offhandedly. "He will continue to be a problem."

Rowena folded her arms across her chest. "I've looked into his eyes Godric, his heart knows not the power that you wield and so he mocks it and degrades it openly. He will have to be taken care of."

Harry sighed loudly. "This I understand. It causes me pain to see him now, knowing what he could have been. There was a time when I called him friend, but he no longer understands the meaning of the word."

"You could destroy him very easily," Rowena stated matter-of-factly.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Only if events demand it," he confided. "I would take no pleasure in doing so, no pleasure at all."

"It is ironic," she noted, "It is you so full of the power that Salazar truly desires, but it is a power that he shall never have the heart to wield."

"Salazar is strong, do not discount the power he has inherited."

"Compared to your power," she interrupted knowingly, "it is nothing. Only one blinded by hatred would attempt to use that hate to conquer love. It is a fool's war." Harry said nothing, but Rowena knew that he understood. She could see it in his eyes.

Harry awoke with a start, one hand rubbing his eyes, the other searching the bedside table for his glasses. The dream stirred something deep within his soul and instinctively he reached for Gryffindor's sword. In seconds it sparkled into an existence, hilt firmly in his palm.

**DSz**

The castle seemed eerily quiet as Hermione sat alone in the library, a stack of books to her right and another to her left. Hours ago the muggle-borns had been evacuated, along with those witches and wizards unable or unwilling to fight. Many had remained; time would tell if it would be enough.

"So, you have decided to stay?" A soft voice questioned.

Hermione was so startled she nearly knocked over the cup of tea next to her hand. "Merlin," she gasped, "Madam Pince would have killed me." She looked up to find Elsie Panos staring at her from the doorway.

"Sorry dear. I couldn't sleep and I saw the light."

"Mrs. Panos," Hermione greeted. "Shouldn't you have left already? I thought the last muggle-borns went through at ten?"

Elsie nodded. "Call me Elsie. I sent my granddaughter off to America. My son will find her there."

"But what about you and your husband?"

The old woman shrugged and took a seat across from her. "We will stay and help as much as we can. For my husband, this battle is a matter of pride. He stays so I stay."

"But…you don't have any magic, you could be killed!"

"As could you," Elsie commented.

Hermione gestured to the books. "I've got research to do. I can't just leave."

Elsie's lips turned up in a mysterious smile. "It is nonsense that such things are written," she stated, motioning toward the pile of old tomes. "To write of magic is to pretend to understand it. How can one truly know the way's of magic?"

"Well, these books over here are mostly about the castle itself," Hermione explained studiously, "These on the other side are spell theory and those over…"

"Words," scoffed Elsie. "Mere words to explain wondrous things that can not be explained. Can one explain the flame of a phoenix or the power of a wand?"

The girl gave the older woman a confused look. "I don't understand."

"No," Elsie shook her head, "Most do not, but you will." She tapped Hermione's nose. "Follow me young schej."

Moonlight shown down on the rose garden, and though the fall air was beginning to cool, the enchantments of the place made the temperature warm and tolerable. Hermione stared at Elsie as she navigated her way around the flowers. A tingling sensation ran up her spine and her gaze wandered to the moon above. Suddenly, for one short moment, she felt as if she had her magic back.

"You think it has left you, but you are wrong," Elsie stated with a knowing look. She stopped in the middle of the garden and wiped an errant tear from the young girl's cheek. "Magic is all around us and it waits to be used. A wizard found a way to send it through a stick and now we all send it through sticks, but there are many ways to use magic, old ways." A bright gleam appeared in her eyes.

Hermione gasped. "Do you mean…that I…that we…" She hated to speak the words aloud, couldn't bring herself to really. Hope sprouted in her heart too readily and she did her best to push it down.

"I do mean," Elsie nodded. "Look at the moon and the flowers, breath the air, feel your blood move through your body, and then tell me there is no magic here." A firm hand fell over Hermione's heart and she swayed slightly, body suddenly feeling very light.

"But how do we use the magic? Do you know how?"

Elsie grinned wildly. "Of course and you do also, but you do not know. It is in your blood you silly Romani."

"Romani?" Hermione questioned, giving her a confused look. "I don't understand."

"Bah!" Elsie swatted her on the shoulder. "You do not need to, the blood in your veins will understand." She plucked a rose from a nearby bush. The garden became silent as she cupped it in her hands and whispered. Within seconds the rose went from red to white.

Hermione stepped forward and snatched the rose. "How?" She asked desperately. "What was that spell?"

Elsie shook her head. "No spell. I…" She rubbed at her chin, trying to find a way to explain. "I asked it to become something else."

The rose in her hand appeared real, Hermione thought as she held the flower up. It didn't appear to be a trick or prank. But how? She'd never read anything about this kind of magic.

"You called me something before, Romani. What does it mean?"

"It is what you are," Elsie chuckled, "Strange you should not know that."

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "But how do you know that's what I am? You have no proof."

The woman took Hermione's hands and gently closed them around the white rose. "Ask it to become something else," Elsie suggested, "If you respect the rose, it will hear."

Feeling ridiculous, Hermione leaned forward and whispered into her cupped hands. She waited a moment and then hesitantly turned her palms upward. A gasp escaped her at the same time the older woman let out a bark of laughter.

"You are a fast learner," Elsie stated approvingly.

Hermione was silent, choosing to stare dumbly at the pretty pink tulip she held in her right hand.

**DSz**

Kingsley scanned the area warily, watching as the Death Eaters made their rounds. Marking the bars with a stone, he'd figured out their patterns. If there was only some way he could get a wand. He leaned back with a sigh. The place was slowly killing his will to fight; he had to find a way to escape.

"Basile," he called out gruffly. "We must find a way to escape from this place."

Basile scoffed quietly. "That is a very funny joke Kingsley."

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm not joking. If I don't find a way out of here soon, then I won't get out of here at all. I can feel my magic getting weaker."

"That will continue," Basile stated assuredly. "You are the same as them I suspect." He motioned to the gypsies staring mournfully from their cage across the way. "The meals they give you are not enough and your body is using your magic to survive."

"I can't survive forever, eventually my magic will run out."

The Frenchman's expression became a pained one. "There is nothing to do," he insisted. "If you attempt to run, they will kill you." In that moment a Death Eater stalked past their cage, giving Kingsley a vicious glare. "They are always watching," Basile whispered.

"If there was a way I could get a message out. I'm sure everyone's holed up at Hogwarts. Potter's probably there with those Americans, if we could just find a way to get an owl out or…"

Basile's expression became even grimmer. "And what would you tell them? Even if you knew where we are, what would you have them do? They are fighting a war and you wish for them to come here to rescue a camp full of muggle-borns? How many would they lose in the fight? How many can they afford to lose?"

Kingsley's jaw clenched at the man's logic. He was right of course. The Ministry had been taken, the Order was surely stretched to breaking and Potter had enough on his plate. What could Kingsley expect from them? Yes, they'd come, but what would be the final cost?

"Then there's only one thing we can do," he reasoned. "We'll have to break out ourselves and take the camp." He turned his head so Basile could see that he was completely serious.

"But we are weak," Basile argued, "and we have no magic."

Kingsley nodded. "I'll agree that you're all weak, but you said yourself, some of you DO have magic."

"The bohemiens you mean? But how can they help if they are too weak to move."

Kingsley rubbed his baldhead and tapped his foot. "If we can find a way to get a wand, I can remedy that problem. I'll hover food to them while the guards aren't watching. If they can take the guards by surprise then we'll really have a fighting chance."

"You have gone insane Monsieur Kingsley!" Basile gaped at him. "The bohemiens will be no match for the Death Eaters, even with their odd magics."

"You're right of course," Kingsley agreed, "but it won't just be the gypsies doing the fighting. You-Know-Who thinks that muggles and muggle-borns are weak." He clapped a hand on Basile's shoulder. "I think it's time he was proven wrong, don't you?"


	28. A Real Distraction

**_I do not see why man should not be just as cruel as nature. – Adolf Hitler_**

"Rise my loyal servants."

The Death Eaters rose from the ground as Voldemort made his way to his throne on the raised dais. A nervous energy seemed to penetrate the air. The Dark Lord had not called so many followers together in a very long time. Severus Snape eyed the pale wizard from behind his mask, as curious as the rest of the man's followers.

"There is a very good reason I've called you all here tonight." He paused to pet Nagini, allowing everyone's level of anticipation to rise even further. "One of my spies within Hogwarts has informed me that all of the muggle-borns have been sent to America, along with a small group of wizards who have refused to fight. The magical children were sent with them as well."

A ripple of whispered conversation made its way through the assembled group. "The muggle-borns make no difference, eventually they will fall under our control. The magical children being sent away are a problem. I wished for them to join us once Hogwarts was taken; now that is impossible. So I have decided that a group will be sent to America."

"To get the children?" Bellatrix questioned.

Voldemort shook his head. "No my dear Bella, in due time we will collect the children. I'm after a much more important treasure." He hissed something to the snake and the group jumped as Nagini suddenly left her master's side to slither down the hall and out the door. "It is curious that one of the witches that left with the group was the youngest Weasley girl. Severus, step forward."

Severus did so without a second thought. He knelt on one knee at the foot of the dais. "Yes, my Lord?"

"What do you know of the Weasley girl?"

"The witch's name is Ginevra Molly Weasley, daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley. She is a 16-year old pureblood with red hair and brown eyes. The Potter boy was courting her last year, but I do not know if that relationship has continued."

"Would you say she is a powerful witch?" Asked Voldemort.

Severus tilted his head to one side. "She shows promise, but I would think Bellatrix would be more informative as to how powerful she may or may not be." He grinned behind his mask, imagining the look on the Lestrange's face at his reference to the Department of Mysteries debacle.

"Perhaps you are right. Bella, step forward."

Severus stiffened slightly as the half-crazed woman knelt beside him.

"My Lord, the Weasley girl is extremely powerful for her age. She is also very much a Gryffindor. I do not think it was her decision to leave Hogwarts."

"My thoughts exactly," Voldemort stated, a look of satisfaction appearing on his snake-like features. "So what could convince such a witch to leave the battlefield before the war's begun?"

Bella appeared confused by the question, so Severus took the opportunity to answer. "Love, my Lord. Potter loves her and has asked her to flee to safety. He does not wish to have her in harm's way."

Voldemort nodded. "Yes my young snake," he said in an affectionate tone. "Love causes even the most powerful to show weakness and fear. The Weasley girl is a powerful witch, she would be an asset fighting at Potter's side, loyal even in the face of death, but he sent her away."

"Love can be a powerful thing, my Lord," Severus stated quietly. The other Death Eaters looked at him oddly but Voldemort nodded in understanding.

"You are right of course. Lily Potter's love saved her son from certain death," Voldemort concluded, "And love caused you to ask me to spare the mudblood. Perhaps if I would have seen the power behind such an act…" His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "I want the Weasley girl brought here. She is the bargaining chip I need. With her in my hands, Potter will have no choice but to surrender."

"And then you will kill him, my Lord?" Bella asked. Severus rolled his eyes at the hopeful look in her wild eyes.

"No my Bella. I no longer wish to kill Potter, instead I wish to control him."

Severus almost snorted aloud at that. The Dark Lord must be crazy if he thinks anyone or anything can control such a Gryffindor as Potter.

**DSz**

A sharp jab in Kingsley's side woke him with a start. He sat up immediately, eyes wide as he attempted to see through the darkness of the night. A full moon hung in the sky, casting odd shadows over the camp. He could barely make out a figure in black standing on the other side of the bars, a thin strand of white-blonde hair trailing from a long hood.

"Who are you?" He questioned in a gruff whisper.

"Your savior," replied a refined female voice. "I can help you to escape, but in return, I request a favor."

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm not going to leave all these people here to die. If you want to help me, then get me a wand."

An angry hiss escaped from within the deep hood. "You are insane to believe you can free these people. They are as good as dead. I can help you to escape and in return you must promise that I will not be thrown into the dungeons of Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts still stands?" Kingsley questioned hopefully. The figure nodded slightly and another strand of blonde hair escaped. It didn't take him long to deduce who had come to his rescue. "Malfoy, is that you?" He stared at the man, wondering how he had escaped from Azkaban, then the hood fell back to reveal, "Narcissa!"

"Shhhh, do you want the Death Eaters to hear?"

"But you are a Death Eater," he stated, brow furrowing in confusion.

"I was a Death Eater," she admitted. "But then they killed Lucius and Draco…he…"

"He what?"

"He lost his magic," she sobbed quietly.

Kingsley's eyes widened in surprise. "Did they kill him?"

She shook her head. "No, I sent him to Hogwarts. I'm fairly sure he escaped to America with the rest of the muggle-borns."

"That's wonderful," he sighed in relief. "Now we just need to get out of here. I swear Narcissa, if you help us out of here, I'll make sure no one touches a hair on that pureblood blonde head of yours."

"I can't help them all Shacklebolt." She waved her hands in frustration. "There are hundreds of muggle-borns here. How do you expect to overpower the guards and get them all out of here? One of the Death Eaters would trip the alarms before you even made it to the front gate and then there would be thousands upon you in seconds."

"That's why I need a wand and I need to feed them." Kingsley gestured at the gypsies at the other side of the camp.

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "I don't understand. How can they help? All of those people there are muggle-borns, they have no magic."

Kingsley chuckled. "If they have no magic, then why don't they get fed? Obviously the Death Eaters are afraid of something. Get me a wand and smuggle some food to them, I've got a plan." She eyed him as if he was crazy and perhaps, due to lack of food, at the moment he was a bit insane.

**DSz**

Ginny stared out the window, watching sadly as small snowflakes began to fall. She sighed and glanced back at the mess of sheets on the large bed. It was her first night in the states and she couldn't sleep. Instead her mind kept wandering to Harry Potter, the man that had sent her away.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" She sobbed angrily and pounded the glass. Tears were quickly wiped away and just as quickly replaced by new ones.

But it didn't matter. It didn't matter how much she cried, or how many fits she threw, it was too late. She'd done the one thing she always said she'd never do and she did it for him.

Ginny Weasley ran away.

Angry and upset, she stalked across the bedroom. It was a large room, not like the shelter the rest had been sent to. She was getting special treatment and she knew it. The secret service agents outside the door would make sure that no one got in and Draco, sleeping soundly in the other room, was there to make sure she didn't get out. It was all because of Harry and what she was to him.

That thought filled her with a strange emotion, a mixture of sadness, anger and joy. What girl wouldn't want to be coveted in such a way? Her brain understood why Harry asked her to leave, but her heart rebelled against it. In a few days time, she would run back to him and no would stop her…Merlin help any who might try.


	29. Sacrifice

**_Battle not with monsters  
lest ye become a monster  
and if you gaze into the abyss  
the abyss gazes into you._**

Two butterbeer bottles clinked together, the sound echoing through the empty office. Empty save for two figures sitting in overstuffed armchairs near the tall windows facing the Quidditch pitch, a mop of messy black hair peeking over the back of one chair and wavy red over the back of the other.

"To tomorrow," Ron proposed stoically.

"To tomorrow," Harry replied with a strained smile. Ron took a large swallow of butterbeer. "I can't believe Voldemort hasn't taken Diagon Alley already. Do you think we really have a chance of getting those people out?"

The redhead scratched his chin and nodded. "I really think You-Know-Who is concentrating on more valuable targets. Hogsmeade made sense because it's close to Hogwarts and close to you. The attack on the Ministry was obviously coming sooner or later. Diagon Alley is right next to Knockturn Alley, I can imagine that he's got a few friends there."

"That might be a problem."

"Nah." Ron waved a hand. "Most of the shop owners in Knockturn Alley are more concerned about making a galleon then helping out any dark lords."

"I hope you're right."

"Don't worry so much. Just concentrate on tempering your power a little. Remember, we're there to save people, not destroy the place."

Harry blushed. "I've gotten much better. Tonks said that I'll be fine as long as I stick to less destructive spells like stunners."

Ron finished his butterbeer and set it on the table between them. With a bright shimmer it disappeared, a full one taking its place. He marveled at the mysterious magic of house elves.

"Where's Hermione been anyway? I passed by the library yesterday and didn't see her."

Ron's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure what she's working on now. I saw her out in the rose garden with that Panos woman. They've been spending a lot of time together."

"Hmm…I hope she's not feeling left out. I want to include her in things, it's just…"

"It's hard to know how to act around her," Ron put in helpfully. Harry nodded sadly. "I know what you mean. I can't imagine…you know…losing my magic. It's gotta be even harder for her. I mean, she didn't even know magic existed until she was eleven and then to have it suddenly taken away." He shivered at the thought.

"Yeah, there were times when I first came to Hogwarts that I was afraid to go to sleep at night because I was sure I'd wake up and be back at the Dursleys."

"Speaking of the Dursleys, I'm sure surprised your Aunt decided to stay."

"Me too," Harry agreed, holding his half empty bottle of butterbeer up to the moonlight shining in through the window. The reflection played against his glasses, making them glint in an odd way.

"And I'm surprised Ginny actually left." Ron frowned. "I didn't think she'd really go."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and downed the rest of his drink. "It was for the best."

"I don't know Harry…"

"It was for the best. I really care about her Ron and if Voldemort were to find out he'd go after her for sure."

Ron dropped the bottle in his hand to the table in a violent manner. "I care about her too Harry, just as much as I care about the rest of my family."

"I never said you didn't," Harry interrupted.

"Let me finish," Ron said angrily. "I care about them, but I also know that they need to do what's best for them. It's not my place to tell them where to go or what to do. Don't you think Mum tried to talk me out of going tomorrow? In the end though, she knows I have to do what I have to do."

The bottle in Harry's hand suddenly shattered and he stared despondently as his blood dripped to the floor. "I can't lose her Ron," he stated and looked to his friend with a grim expression in his deep emerald eyes. "I need something to fight for and I don't have much left."

Neither wizard noticed the eyes that watched them from the shadows of the Headmaster's office. The figure slipped away into the darkness hurriedly, anxious to pass along such valuable information.

**DSz**

"If you want to be of any help, then you need to learn control," Elsie Panos chided as Hermione attempted to extract her hands from the mass of vines in front of her.

The young girl shook her head, attempting to concentrate. The vines retreated slightly but her hands remained stuck. A gasp of pain escaped her as a thorn scraped across one finger, drawing a few drops of blood. The drops fell upon one of the green plants and the vines slipped away immediately. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.

"But how?" She gave Elsie a confused look.

Elsie grasped her hand and held up the injured finger. "Sacrifice," Elsie explained wisely. "Sacrifice will always be recognized by any and every living being on this green Earth. Even humans are affected by sacrifice, although they may not even realize it at the time."

A strange thought suddenly popped in her head. "What if it's a sacrifice forcibly taken?" This time it was Elsie's turn to look confused. "What if someone forcibly took something from another, like flesh or blood?"

Elsie shook her head, expression dark. "The worst of things one can do. To take a part of someone else without consent." She shook her head again. "There is nothing worse then this. All things must be repaid. If blood is taken, then blood will be repaid in a most terrible way."

"Voldemort returned to his body through a ritual," Hermione explained, "It was a ritual that used Harry's blood, forcibly taken."

"A very dark spell then," Elsie put in and Hermione nodded.

"Yes, it was definitely dark. I doubt there are many spells the Dark Lord does which aren't dark."

Elsie drew in a strangled breath. "The cost for such things is high."

"I don't think he cares," Hermione replied. "He does so much evil and he doesn't care at all."

The old woman shook her head. "He does care and that is why he fears death. In death he will see the worth of his soul reflected."

Hermione gave her a questioning look. "Do you think the blood he took from Harry could help fight him? Perhaps we could find some advantage…"

Elsie nodded sagely. "The value of a sacrifice is in the way it's given, good or bad. A sacrifice, which is stolen, has only bad value. In Harry Potter's blood is all that makes him what he is. Now that blood runs through the Dark Lord, connecting more than they were connected before, but the connection has been made worse. It is bad and can only bring evil." She waved her hand over Hermione's finger, healing the small wound. "Do not attempt to direct that evil, the evil will find its own way."

**DSz**

A small noise from the bedroom caught Snape's attention. He turned to the closed door and drew his wand, prepared to battle whatever enemy might be on the other side. The door opened slowly, revealing a long red cloak. With a sigh he dropped his arm to his side.

"I could have killed you."

The cloaked figure chuckled at that. "Many have tried and all have failed."

Severus rubbed his brow wearily. "Why have you come? Have you found another?"

The hood swayed back and forth in negative reply. "No, but I do have information. They're headed to Diagon Alley in the morning. They plan on saving as many as they can."

"The fools," he scoffed angrily. "Potter would put himself in danger for a rabble of muggle-borns that can't help him in the least."

"He wants to save them," the mysterious figure ground out angrily. "Why can't you see the good in that?"

"Good! If Potter gets killed then it's all over, the plan dies with him."

"I thought the Dark Lord no longer wanted to kill him."

Severus ran a hand through his greasy hair. "That is correct, but some of his followers are difficult to control."

"Bellatrix." The name ended in a hiss. Snape nodded in agreement.

"There is her and many others who would be absolutely giddy to watch the Boy-Who-Lived be destroyed once and for all. You must make sure that does not happen."

The hood gave a nod of understanding. "I'll do what I can. Are you sure the Dark Lord's spy will know of their plans?"

"The spy is very well informed and no, I don't know who it is, or even what it is. My first thought was the house elf, Kreacher, but I doubt that it would be given the freedom to traipse about the school. No…it must be someone else, someone very close to the boy. The information the Dark Lord is receiving is exceptionally detailed." Snape shrugged. "We will have to hope that Potter's luck holds."

"He is exceptionally lucky." The figure turned to leave.

"Wait," Severus said, calling them back. "I have some information that may be beneficial. It is rumored that Bellatrix holds something in her vault, something of great value to the Dark Lord. The chaos in Diagon Alley may be the perfect distraction."

"Break into Gringotts'? Are you mad?! Do you even know what I need to look for?"

"A cup," Severus explained coolly. "Engraved upon it will be the symbol of Hufflepuff house."

"Another horcrux?" Severus nodded. "Then I'll do my best. I can't promise anything though, Gringotts is well protected, what with the dragons and all."

"If Potter could handle a dragon at fourteen, I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Ha ha Snape." The cloaked figure poked a gaunt finger at the Potions Master. "Just wait until this is all over." A swirl of red and Snape was alone.

"If we live to see the end," Severus whispered to the empty room, tilting his head to one side. "If we are so lucky…or so cursed."


	30. DDay Part 1

**_"I should like to pay the highest tribute for the most gallant fight put up against impossible odds" - Admiral Tovey_**

Ginny and Draco sat playing a quiet game of chess as the American version of the WWN echoed through the sitting room. Both players were distracted by the radio so the game was moving at a slow pace, but neither cared. Ginny tapped her hand against her leg as another commercial ended.

_"And we're back. For those of you who are just tuning in you're listening to Wizarding Opinions on M-World News, you're number one station for international and national magical news. Our topic for today is the involvement of the United States in the current conflict in Great Britain. As almost everyone is aware, You-Know-Who has returned and has been wreaking havoc in Great Britain for a few years now. President Clinton has sent in military forces to assist and new information has come out suggesting that refugees were secretly shipped into the U.S. We'd love to hear your opinions on this so please call in now."_

Draco sighed as he pushed a pawn forward. The only chess set in the sitting room was a muggle one.

_"Our first caller. Do you have an opinion?"_

"_Well Mark, just yesterday my son was shipped off to Great Britain and my wife and I couldn't be prouder. We've been telling him stories about Harry Potter since he was just a baby and he was thrilled to get the chance to fight side-by-side with the Boy Who Lived. Of course we're worried about him because it's bound to be dangerous, but this is about freedom."_

"_Is your son a wizard?"_

"_Yes, but he has a lot of muggle-born friends and I think that has a lot to do with his decision to join the fight."_

Ginny shifted in her seat while she decided on her next move.

"_Well we're proud of him too. Thanks for your call. Let's go to the next call. Caller, you're on the air."_

"_We shouldn't have our men and women over there. This is England's fight, let them handle it. They're the ones who let that evil wizard cause trouble for as long as he has, and now they want our help? I say we should let 'em deal with their own problems."_

Ginny grit her teeth and pushed a bishop across the board.

"_Thanks for your call. Caller, you're on the air."_

"_I just want to remind a few folks about a certain other dark wizard. Does anyone remember Grindewald? He ended up making a deal with Hitler and look how much trouble that caused us. We need to nip this in the bud now before things get out of control."_

"_Thanks for sharing your opinion with us. Next call."_

Draco looked at the board uncaringly and knocked over his king. "You got me," he stated, no emotion in his voice.

"_Hey Mark. I just want to know one thing. Why hasn't any news outlet reported on the concentration camps that You-Know-Who has going over there in Europe? Everyone knows they've been picked up on satellite, so why aren't we in there rescuing those people?"_

"_Good question caller. Next…wait, I've just been handed a special report. It seems there is some kind of altercation taking place in Diagon Alley. For those of you who don't know where that is, it's a magical shopping district in London much like New Trollway in New Jersey or Yellow Hag Avenue in New York. Please stay with us while we switch over to our primary news team at our main studio in Washington."_

Both teens stood quickly and rushed over to the radio. They scuffled for a moment as they both tried to turn up the volume at the same time, but eventually Ginny slapped Draco's hand away and was able to turn the large black knob. She held her breath and gripped her chair tightly. Draco leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the radio as if he expected the news people to step out of the small brown box.

_"Thank you Mark. This is Robin Robinson with M-World News Report. As Mark mentioned, we've just gotten word from one of our embedded reporters that there is a battle taking place in Diagon Alley between You-Know-Who's forces, also known as Death Eaters, and a group led by Harry Potter mainly consisting of aurors from the Ministry of Magic and American military forces. Now we've tried to get a line out there in order to speak to our reporter, but the magical wards on the alley prevent any type of electrical communication."_

_"At the moment we're receiving short magical messages on a two-way piece of parchment we have here in the studio. From what's written here we know that at five o'clock this morning Harry Potter and his forces infiltrated Diagon Alley in a last ditch effort to rescue the wizards, witches and most importantly the muggle-borns who have been hiding out there. It seems that You-Know-Who must have seen this coming though because he arrived soon after with a large contingent of Death Eaters."_

_"Hold on, we're just getting word now. It seems forces from both sides have finally left Diagon Alley and the casualties have been very low."_

Draco and Ginny both sighed in relief.

_"But a number of wizards and witches have been taken hostage by You-Know-Who. I'm not seeing a list of names here but I'm sure the military will be releasing those very soon."_

Ginny reached out unconsciously and grasped Draco's wrist. They shared a worried look before turning their attention back to the radio.

_"We're receiving another message. Apparently the Order of the Phoenix and the surviving Aurors, along with American military forces, planned to infiltrate Diagon Alley and get those people out before Voldemort could step in. Obviously things didn't work that way. Excuse me, a parchment just came through the floo."_

_"I've just received word that the press will receive the list of casualties at nine a.m. tomorrow, but we do have a list of wizards and witches who are missing in action and assumed captured. Obviously we cannot disclose the titles or ranks of these individuals."_

A long list of names was read and Ginny nearly cried when she realized that she didn't recognize any of them. But then the reporter read the last name and her heart fell into her stomach.

_"Ron Weasley."_

**DSz**

The strange feeling that permeated the Alley put Ron on his guard right away. Everything seemed calm enough and that's what really had him worried. Diagon Alley shouldn't feel calm and serene; it should be saturated in worry and fear. He held up his hand and the men and women behind him immediately froze, wands at the ready.

"What is it Ron?" Harry whispered. "A trap?"

Ron cocked his head to one side. "Something doesn't feel right."

Sergeant Krall scratched at the brown stubble on his chin and took a step to stand next to them. "There's something off about this place," he nodded in agreement. "My hair's standing on end."

Suddenly, from one of the alleys at the end of the street, an old man rushed out and collapsed to the ground. Ron could see a deep red trail of blood pointing out the direction from which the man had come. Without thinking he began to step forward to help the man but then paused in hesitation. Harry also moved to help the man and Ron grabbed his friend's arm.

"Something's wrong here."

"That man's hurt," Harry pleaded. "He needs our help."

Ron shook his head again. "Don't."

"I'll check it out," one of the American soldiers called out.

"Hold your people back," Ron urged Sergeant Krall.

"When there's a man dying right in front of us?" Krall shook his head and waved one of his Healers forward. "Wand at the ready," he reminded the young woman.

Everyone seemed to be holding a collective breath as she made her way toward the man. Ron released Harry's arm and held his wand steady. His instincts were screaming that they were in trouble, but the rational part of his brain reminded him that they had come to help people and this man was most definitely in need of help.

It wasn't until the woman was standing above the wounded man that he raised his eyes to look at her. It was in that moment that Ron realized the trap they'd stepped into. The man's eyes were a ghostly white and in his hand was a strange looking device.

"M-bomb!" Sergeant Krall cried out, "Everyone hit the deck!"

Time seemed to slow as Harry tugged him to the ground. He made a move to cover his ears but was too late. The ground rocked beneath them and a blast of heat and light washed over the street. A strange red liquid streaked across his face and it took him a few seconds to realize that it was all that was left of the man with the bomb.

Woolford had warned Ron about M-bombs, muggle explosives mixed with magic. She'd even warned him about the gruesome effects, but the descriptions didn't live up to the reality.

Ron's ears were ringing as he stumbled to his feet. Around him there was chaos, but it all looked surreal and strange. He could see Harry shouting at him, but he couldn't hear the words. A jet of green light passed by the back of Harry's head. Without thinking, Harry pointed his wand at the Death Eater that sent the spell and with a quick Stupefy, knocked the dark wizard out cold.

Then time seemed to rush forward.

"Ron! Ron, can you hear me?!" Harry screamed through the noise surrounding them.

"Harry," he mumbled, "I…what…"

Harry cursed under his breath. "Don't worry Ron." He shoved a phial against the redhead's lips. "Drink this."

Ron didn't question it, just opened his mouth and swallowed. In seconds he was feeling a hundred percent better. "What was that?"

"Something the twins cooked up," Harry shouted. "We've walked into a trap."

"Sure have," Krall yelled as he fought his way over. "I think we ought to retreat, as much as I hate leaving the civilians to that snake faced bastard." He spit a wad of phlegm at the ground. "If we stay here we ain't gonna make it."

"How many have we lost?" Ron questioned calmly.

"Don't know about the Order, but my units down by at least five. Considering I only brought twenty to begin with, that means I've only got fifteen including myself."

Harry scanned the alley. "We're too spread out. I can't tell how many we've got left."

It was easy to tell the aurors and order members apart from the American military personnel. While the aurors and order members were dashing about, working in small groups of two or three, the Americans were compacted together, defending and attacking as one large group. The two different strategies worked surprisingly well together.

"We're holding our own for now," Krall commented, "but it can't last long. Either we get reinforcements or we get the hell out."

"How many portkeys did we bring?" Ron asked.

"I've got over a hundred in my bag here," he stated, holding up a small sack full of bottle caps.

"I've got another twenty," Harry added, holding up his own bag of caps.

Ron nodded. "We'll fight as long as we can and distribute those too as many civilians as we can get to. Don't try and figure out if someone's dark or not, McGonagall and the rest of the teachers can sort them out as they portkey into the Great Hall."

Sergeant Krall handed Harry his bag of bottle caps before they began heading off in different directions. Krall immediately began firing spells in an effort to distract the Death Eaters, while Harry threw his invisibility cloak over his head and disappeared from view.

Diagon Alley was still in complete chaos. Ron scanned the different groups of wizards and witches on their side to see who was in need of the most help. It was while he was doing this that he noticed a strange red-cloaked figure making their way from Gringott's. He'd never seen a Death Eater in red before, but from the way the figure was sneaking across the street, it definitely looked like the man or woman was up to no good. Ron skirted around the fighting and made his way toward the bank.

A half block away he could feel that something was wrong. The street was much too quiet. He slowed his steps for a moment and then burst into a run, deciding the best route was the most direct one. If Death Eaters had seen him, then he'd have a better chance running then fighting. Suddenly the sound of a shrill voice stopped him in his tracks.

"If it isn't the itty-bitty friend of Pottie. Thought you could get away, did you?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Ron hissed under his breath, turning slowly to face the crazed witch. The woman was as wide-eyed and insane looking as ever. "Fancy meeting you here."

"O won't my master be so happy. Friend of Pottie, the little red-haired boy, won't he make such a wonderful toy."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're a poet and you didn't even know it."

"Expelliarmus," a deep voice shouted and a spell shot past his ear, directly at the Death Eater, but she dodged at the last moment. Ron glanced back quickly to see the red-cloaked figure with their wand out. The voice was so deep, he knew it had to be a wizard, but who could it be?

"More of Pottie's friends," the witch cackled.

The man in red shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really, but an enemy of yours nonetheless. Stupefy!"

This one hit the mark and Bellatrix hit the ground like a rag doll. Ron turned to thank the man but the words caught in his throat as he saw a group of five Death Eaters running his way. A strong arm wrapped around his middle.

"Well Weasley you've thrown me off my schedule," the man growled in his ear, "but it's best you don't die here."

Ron heard a loud whooshing in his ear, then a softly spoken 'Stupefy' and then nothing but silence in the dark.


	31. The Lull

_**Hope, like the gleaming taper's light,  
**__**Adorns and cheers our way,  
**__**And still, as darker grows the night,  
**__**Emits a brighter ray. - Oliver Goldsmith**_

The crackling sound of burning logs pulled Ron from his dreams and he wondered why Harry was throwing another log into the fireplace when the room was already so warm. It must be early, he contemplated, Harry's always up early in the mornings even though he stays up late into the nights. It's not good for him, Ron decided, I should tell him that.

"Harry, get some sleep mate," he mumbled as he tried to turn over in bed, but he couldn't turn over because his arms and legs were all tangled up in the blankets. He tugged at the blankets, his eyes popping open as he realized that they weren't blankets at all, but ropes.

Everything came back to him at once, the journey to Diagon Alley, the explosion and the figure in the red cloak. Ron looked around the room but it was bathed in shadows from the fireplace. The man in the red cloak squatted near the fire, watching the flames. Ron couldn't see his face, but the man's hands were visible and they looked calloused and weathered.

"Who are you?" Ron questioned, voice barely a whisper. He sure was thirsty, it seemed as if he hadn't had a drink in a long while. The man must have heard the thirst in his voice because the next moment a cup was held to his lips and he paused, wondering if he should drink the unknown liquid.

"If I'd wanted you dead, you'd already be dead," the man admonished. "Now drink."

Ron drank greedily, water spilling down his chin. The red-cloaked man helped him to sit up so he wouldn't choke. He tried to get a good look under the man's hood as the cup was taken away, but the man's face seemed to be always cast in shadow.

"Who are you?" He questioned once more.

"No enemy of yours," the man sighed, "Your plan for Diagon Alley was a good one."

Ron shook his head. "Somehow the bastard knew, he knew we were coming."

The man nodded in agreement. "He did and do you know how he knew."

"I don't know." Ron furrowed his brow, trying to work out how Voldemort would have known the exact time of their rescue. "Harry's scar maybe, but he said he's been blocking the connection."

"It's not his scar," the man assured him, "There's a traitor in your midst and it must be someone very close to you and Potter. Perhaps the Malfoy boy?"

"No, it can't be him," Ron stated, shifting slightly to ease the tension on his bound limbs. "We sent him off to America with the rest of the muggle-borns. I can't believe one of our own people is spying for Voldemort."

"You're thinking too much like a Gryffindor," the man urged.

Ron frowned. "You may be right. We can't go around being suspicious of everyone though."

"Well, you'll need to think of something or all of your future plans will be for nothing." The man's head cocked to the side as if he were listening for something. He turned back to Ron while reaching into his robes. "It's time I sent you back to your friends. I'm sure Ha-Potter's worried sick about you, but I need to give you something." He pushed a goblet into Ron's hands.

"What? Why are you giving me this?"

"You'll know once you get back," the man assured him.

"Why don't you come back to the castle with me?" Ron asked. "We could use more help."

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to come and help, but I'm working for someone else at the moment." The man shuddered. "Until the Dark Lord is defeated, I'm kind of stuck. Hopefully I'll see you again Weasley and under better circumstances at that." There was a small amount of warmth in the man's tone.

"How will you get me back to Hogwarts?"

A chuckle came from underneath the hood. "I have my ways." Suddenly a strange mist formed around Ron's face and it seemed to make him very sleepy.

"Wazzat?" He mumbled, as time seemed to slow down. A voice called to him in the distance. It sounded like Harry. "Har…tha you?"

**dSz**

Hermione gasped for breath as she pounded against Harry's chest. "No, I don't believe you!" She shouted and stamped her foot. "Ron's not gone, he can't be!"

"I'm sorry Hermione," Harry apologized sadly. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. "We'll get him back, I promise we will."

"O God Harry," she wailed. "What if they're torturing him? What if they're hurting Ron? There has to be something we can…someone who can…" Her voice trailed off as understanding hit her. There wasn't anything they could do, not until they had more information.

"Owens is questioning his men and Remus is questioning the Aurors," Harry explained, "Someone must have seen what happened to Ron. Once we know more then we can plan a rescue, but right now we don't have enough information to do anything but wait."

Hermione pushed away from the dark-haired wizard and ran her hands down her robes, straightening out the wrinkles. "Of course you're right," she stated, returning to her usual calm and collected tone. "There is something I need to talk to you about, now that we're alone." Her eyes flitted around the Headmaster's office. "We are alone, aren't we?"

"Of course," Harry nodded. "Only the portraits here, see?" He waved a hand at the former Headmasters and Headmistresses.

"Yes." Her brow knitted together. "For some reason I feel like we're being watched."

"Well we are," Harry agreed, "but I doubt they're going to go off talking to anyone. So what is it you need to talk to me about?"

"It's about Ravenclaw," she explained, "Well, really it's about all the founders." The logs in the fireplace crackled as she began to pace the office. "I've found some very interesting information regarding their abilities. They weren't just magically strong; each had a special ability, that's what brought them together. The four were different then other wizards and witches."

"How different?" Harry questioned.

"Well, Slytherin could speak to snakes, which of course, we knew already. But Harry, the strange thing is, there has never been a recorded Parselmouth that wasn't descended from Slytherin."

Harry swallowed past a lump in his throat. "Okay, what about the other founders?"

"Well, Hufflepuff had a very unique way with plants," she explained. "And when I say unique, I mean unique. She could control them Harry, which means Neville should also have that ability."

"And Ravenclaw?"

Hermione's hands trembled a little. "Ravenclaw's power was the most frightening to other witches and wizards. Her power was in her eyes. She could easily read people's thoughts and influence them, even send them false memories and very realistic fantasies."

"That means," Harry gasped.

"That means that Dumbledore had the same power and I expect he knew it. Those half-moon glasses that the Dumbledore's wear, they're not for poor eyesight. They were specially made to mute Ravenclaw's power. It was the only way anyone would look her in the eyes."

"So when Dumbledore looked over those glasses," Harry growled. "That's how he always knew everything. Bloody hell, how many times did he influence us?"

Hermione put a gentle hand on his arm. "Harry, remember that Dumbledore cared about you a great deal. He may not have always done the right thing, but I highly doubt he would have done something to hurt you purposefully."

Harry nodded sadly. "I know. I just don't like the idea of someone messing in my mind. Reminds me too much of Snape." He shuddered involuntarily. "So that means Rowena can do the same thing."

"I believe so, but I doubt she knows she can. She's probably used it a few times without knowing what she was doing."

Harry rubbed the stubble on his chin. "When I gave that speech in the Great Hall…I didn't know what to say and then I looked at her and suddenly it was like the words were there in my mind. Do you think she told me what to say?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think she heard your silent question. You asked what you should say and she gave you a nudge in the right direction. I'm sure she didn't even know she was doing anything."

"But what about me."

"What about you?" She questioned nervously.

"Hermione," Harry warned. "What did you find out about Gryffindor?"

Hermione tugged him toward the leather couch in the corner, as far away from the portraits as possible. She still felt as if they were being watched, so she kept her voice to a whisper.

"It's not bad Harry, so don't look at me like that."

Harry tried to wipe the frown from his face.

"That's a little better," Hermione whispered. "Gryffindor had the strangest and most misunderstood power of all of the founders. I've barely been able to find any information on it other than very vague references that mention a power that's existed since the dawn of man."

Harry's eyes bugged out. "What kind of power?"

"Harry, what did Dumbledore tell you about the power the Dark Lord knows not?"

"He said it was love," Harry stated with a small laugh. "But that can't be it, can it?"

Hermione's eyes were serious and sober. "I think that's exactly what it is. I don't know how you can use it, but somehow Gryffindor could so you should be able to as well." She took both Harry's hands in her own. "Harry, in the books, well…the books say that Gryffindor's power was very strong, stronger then all of the other founders put together. In one very ancient text, it says Ravenclaw herself joked that Gryffindor could destroy the world if he so much as snapped his fingers and decided he wanted it gone."

**DSz**

Kingsley stared out into the darkened courtyard. It was cold and he watched the steam from his breath curl around the bars. Basile was sleeping soundly next to him on the cold ground, a ragged blanket pulled up over the man's gaunt shoulders. Kingsley sighed and reached into his robes, lightly touching the wand hidden in one of the pockets.

In a week they would fight their way out of this place. All of the planning had been done, with Narcissa ferrying messages between the groups in each cage. Kingsley didn't know if he could trust her at first, but when he looked into her eyes and saw the fear hiding there, he understood that she was in the same boat as the prisoners. Narcissa was fighting for her life.

His thoughts turned to Basile. The man was no fighter. Kingsley was fairly sure the man had never raised his wand to anyone, let alone his fists, but still he had agreed to fight. All of the muggleborns would fight, with fists or rocks, sticks and stones, whatever they could find, it didn't matter, they would fight and many would die.

And for what were they fighting? Kingsley had no idea what was happening in the world. Even Narcissa was in the dark since she'd been spending her time lurking around the camp. Was there anything left of their world? Had Hogwarts been taken? Was Harry Potter still alive?

Somehow Kingsley knew that Potter lived. He didn't know how, didn't know why, he just knew that the boy must be out there somewhere, still fighting as he'd done all his life. Perhaps it was the way Dumbledore had always looked at the boy that convinced Kingsley that Potter wouldn't go down easy. The old man had always had pride in his eyes when he looked at Harry and if anyone mentioned the boy Dumbledore's face would take on the most confident expression Kingsley had ever seen. It was as if Dumbledore had complete faith in Harry Potter, as if he'd never doubted the boy for a second.

If anyone could defeat You-Know-Who, it would be Harry Potter, but that didn't mean the boy didn't need help. The Dark Lord had an army behind him and Potter would need the same. Kingsley wanted to be part of that group, part of that fight, but at the moment, he had his own army to lead.


	32. A Hero's War

**War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. - John Stuart Mill**

It was four o'clock in the morning and most of the Death Eaters at the camp were fast asleep. The few that made the nightly rounds didn't notice the strange things happening right under their noses. They did notice the dark clouds that rolled in above their heads.

"Must be a storm comin' soon," Kingsley heard one of the guards whisper to another. He didn't know their identities since they always wore masks.

"Poor beasts out here are gonna get soaked," the other guard chuckled. A few droplets of water fell and they looked up with concern. "Let's sit a spell in the tea shack till it blows over, everyone's sleepin', noone will notice."

Kingsley watched in satisfaction as the clouds opened up and a great downpour fell upon the camp. The two guards ran for cover, along with the rest of the Death Eaters who'd been outside. Now was their chance.

"Ready Basile?" He questioned.

The man at his side shook with abandon. "Oui Kingsley. Let us fight…to the death if necessary."

"That's the spirit," Kingsley agreed, patting Basile on the shoulder. "As soon as Narcissa sends up a signal, I'm blowing this cage wide open. Be prepared to run. The rain should provide a good distraction."

Basile's hand suddenly fell on his shoulder, squeezing hard. "I do not know if I will ever get a chance to tell you, so I will tell you now. Thank you Kingsley. You are risking your life to save us when you could easily have saved yourself long ago."

Kingsley laid a hand over Basile's. "I'm not saving anyone, I'm just giving them a chance to save themselves."

A hiss echoed through the night and Kingsley looked up just in time to see a green light descend, illuminating the camp. "There's the signal. Reducto!" The bars burst into pieces and Kingsley was shocked for a moment. There'd been so much power behind it…he shook his head, no time to think on that.

"Run!" He shouted and then began blasting the other cages as he went. Muggle-borns poured out into the large encampment and a small group of Death Eaters came stumbling out of the bunkhouse, weary with sleep. "Get them, quick!"

The men were consumed by the mob, barely having time to let out a cry of protest, let alone a spell. The muggle-borns were vicious in their attacks, grasping anything within arm's reach and using it as a weapon. Kingsley even saw one woman steal a Death Eater's wand and stab it through the man's eye. He turned away at the bloodshed and headed for the cage across the way.

A tall, bearded man clutched his hand as he opened the cage door. "Thank you my friend, thank you."

"Thank you for the storm," Kingsley winked. "Made for a good distraction." The gypsies ran from the cage, whooping and hollering in the pouring rain.

Just as Kingsley was beginning to think their escape was going to be easy, an alarm sounded in the distance. He watched as the muggle-borns went from looking excited and hopeful, to looking completely terrified.

"They're coming," Narcissa hissed as she glided up to stand at his right. "What do you have planned now?"

He turned to the woman with a grim expression on his dark face. "I take as many of them with me as I can." He expected her to be angry with him, perhaps even run away and save herself, but instead she merely smirked.

"I can live with that, or die with it," she chuckled and Kingsley laughed as well.

The storm clouds roared as the Death Eaters began to appear. The usual cracks and snaps of apparition unheard over the crash of lightning across the sky. Spells flew this way and that, while muggle-borns rushed in with their barbaric weapons of wood and stone. Kingsley's grip on his wand tightened and he took a deep breath.

"Kingsley," Narcissa called out above the rabble.

"What?"

"If you make it out of this and I don't, make sure I get an Order of Merlin…at least Second Class."

Kingsley chuckled. "I'll make sure it's First, now follow me!" He growled like an animal and rushed to meet the abyss.

**DSz**

"Commander Potter, sir?"

"I'm not a Commander, just call me Harry," Harry replied, trying not to roll his eyes. "What is it Colin?"

Colin Creevey had become a sort of message boy for the Order, along with his younger brother Dennis. They refused to leave when their parents tried to force them to America. Harry had heard that Dennis had even gone to the dramatic step of gluing himself to the Entrance Hall door.

"There are reports of a large magical disturbance in France."

"In France?" Harry questioned. "Where in France?"

Colin looked down at the notebook in his hands. "An unplottable region, a few miles north of Paris. The French government has picked up a mass apparition into the area, but no one seems to know what's there. The wards are too thick to get through."

"Does Owens know about this?"

Colin nodded. "He's waiting for you in the war room, sir."

Harry dismissed the young wizard and headed down into the dungeons. George and Fred Weasley popped out of one of their many experimental potion laboratories and walked beside him through the corridors. For a moment he felt like laughing as he thought about the look Snape would have on his face if he knew that his precious dungeons were being put to use by the infamous Weasley twins.

"Any word on Ron?" George questioned.

Harry shook his head sadly. "Nothing yet. We're doing everything we can, but it's not as if we can go running around the countryside. Voldemort seems to know our every move. Owens sent out a few undercover operatives this morning and they were all ambushed as soon as they set foot past the wards."

Fred patted his back in a brotherly way. "Don't worry mate. Ron's a scrapper and he's got more Weasley luck then all of us brothers combined. He'll make it back to us."

"Harry!" Woolford greeted. "I'm glad you made it so quickly. You need to take a look at this."

A holographic screen hovered above the table, displaying a map of France. Woolford waved her wand in front of it and it zeroed in on a tiny area north of Paris. While the rest of the map was a cool green color, this part was fiery red.

"As you can see," stated Woolford. "The French Ministry picked up a mass apparition only five minutes ago. Before that time they didn't even know this area existed. The wards are thicker than the skin on a dragon's ass."

"Woolford," Sergeant Owens barked. "Show some decorum."

Her face reddened significantly. "Of course, sir. Sorry, sir."

"So what does it mean?" Harry asked, staring at the map in confusion. "Is there some kind of attack taking place there or something?"

Woolford shook her head. "We think it's an actual muggle-born camp. We've heard rumors of them but didn't think any actually existed. This may be proof that You-Know-Who is exterminating muggle-borns."

"It would make sense," added Owens, "Some of our researchers have been looking back at missing person records over the last year or so and they've found some disturbing facts." He rubbed his forehead and Harry could see the strain in the man's eyes. "Thousands upon thousands of muggle-borns have gone missing from all over the world."

"But how could no one notice?" An angry voice questioned from the doorway. Everyone turned to see a livid looking Hermione standing with her arms crossed.

"Please Miss Granger, take a seat." Owens motioned to the chair next to him. "You too Mr. Potter." He waited for the teens to take their seats. "No one realized there was a problem because many of the muggle-borns were hiding as muggles."

"Are you certain they didn't just choose to live as muggles?" Asked Hermione.

Owens nodded calmly. "Almost all of the families that we've come across left the wizarding world just after it was confirmed that Voldemort had returned."

Hermione gave Harry a hard look. "You've got to help them."

"What?!" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Hermione was usually the one to talk him out of running into dangerous situations.

"We would if we could Miss Granger," Owens stated. "But the wards are too thick. We'll never get through them. Even with tandem casting we'd never get through them."

"But Harry can," she replied smugly. "He's powerful enough to get through any wards."

"You don't know that!" Harry protested. "And what about Ron?"

"You can't do anything for him by sitting here. Those muggle-borns need our help."

"But what about the wards!" Harry protested again.

The air dropped in temperature as a thin figure seemed to float into the war room. Mr. Ollivander looked as creepy as ever as he came through the doorway and Harry repressed a shiver as the man came closer.

"With this," Ollivander stated, snatching Harry's wand from the boy's pocket. "You can take down anything."

"Give me that." Harry grabbed his wand back. "Now what in Merlin's name are talking about?"

Hermione grinned and held out her hand. "I think I know. Let me see your wand Harry, just for a moment."

Reluctantly he handed over his wand and watched nervously as she turned it over in her hands. A look of awe appeared on her face as she held his wand up to the light.

"I can't believe it," she muttered. "I can't believe that it was hidden in plain sight and no one ever figured it out."

"I was surprised as well Miss Granger," stated Ollivander. "Who knew Albus had it in him?"

"What are you two babbling about?" Harry groused from his chair. "Can I have my wand back now, please?" Hermione handed it across the table. "Thank you. Now what in the bloody hell has gotten into you two?"

"The Deathly Hallows," Hermione responded and all of the commotion in the room suddenly came to a halt.

"Ward the room!" Owens shouted loudly. Instantly the door banged shut and a group of wizards began waving their wands across the expansive space. Once they were done, he motioned for Hermione to continue.

"That," she pointed at Harry's wand, "is the Elder Wand. It's one of the Deathly Hallows."

"But this was Dumbledore's wand," Harry argued.

She nodded. "Yes, it was, but it's also the Elder Wand and he's left it to you. You're the new owner Harry."

"I hate to disagree," Ollivander broke in, "but Dumbledore didn't leave this wand for you. On the contrary, Dumbledore was quite insistent that he be buried with the wand."

"Rowena brought it to me," Harry explained. "She said that lightning broke open Dumbledore's tomb and the wand simply floated out. Fawkes was there as well."

Ollivander stared into him with hard eyes. "The wand chooses the wizard Mr. Potter, and this one has chosen you. Your old wand no longer works because it can aid you no further. This wand on the other hand," he motioned to the Elder Wand, "can aid you where no other wand can. It is the Wand of Destiny."

"But a warning," he continued. "A wand is merely a tool, it is the wizard who must master whatever power it has to offer."

Harry huffed, crossing his arms over his chest mutinously. "If I've got so much power, how come I can't save Ron. Let's see, Accio Ron, hmpf. Didn't work, what a surprise."

A loud pop echoed through the room and before their very eyes appeared Ron Weasley, tied up like a thanksgiving turkey. Everyone stared at Ron with amazement as he opened his eyes and flashed a smile in Hermione's direction.

"A little help," he whined pitifully, snapping everyone to action. Harry worked the ropes loose, while Hermione looked him over for any injuries.

"What happened to you, mate?" Harry questioned cheerfully. "We thought we'd lost you."

"Who me? Never," Ron scoffed. "But I do have some bad news. We've got a Snape in our midst."

"A spy?!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron nodded. "That's right. Someone's feeding information to ol' Voldie and it's someone who's close to us. I have no idea who it could be, but we have to be extra careful about our plans.

"But we can't just sit here and do nothing," complained Harry.

"Then we won't make plans," Hermione stated excitedly. "If we can make snap decisions, then the spy won't have time to tell Voldemort."

"This is about France, isn't it?" Harry groaned.

"France?" Questioned Ron.

"Hermione thinks we should go to France to save muggle-borns from some kind of camp that Voldemort and his Death Eater's have setup. What do you think?"

Suddenly there was a renewed fire in Ron's eyes and he pushed himself off the table to stand on the floor. "I say, let's get to it. No time like the present, yeah?"

"O no, you're staying here with me," Hermione ordered, hands on her hips. "I'm not losing you again."

Ron stepped closer to the annoyed witch and cupped her face softly. "Hermione, you know I love you, but I'm going." His smile grew wider as her expression grew sterner. "And, just a reminder, you don't have the magic to stop me."

Hermione's lips took on a large 'o' shape and Ron slipped behind Harry before she could mount any type of retaliation. "Ron Weasley," she bellowed, "If you get yourself hurt or killed, I'll never forgive you."

"That would be better then expelled though, right?" He questioned innocently.

"O you!"

"Hey lovebirds," George called out, "We've got trouble to deal with, remember?"

"Right," Harry stated, "So how do we get to France?"

"Apparition?" Ron suggested.

"Brooms?" Hermione said with uncertainty.

Fred and George shared a sly smile. "We've got a better idea," they proclaimed in unison. "Let's find Charlie."


	33. Dragon

**_"You've never lived until you've almost died, for those who fought for it; life has a flavor the protected will never know."_**

"Oi Fred!"

"Yes George!"

"I've come up with a name for my dragon!"

"And what would that be George?"

"Aaaaaaaah!" George screamed as the large Chinese Fireball he was riding suddenly dropped into a steep dive only to rise again a moment later.

"That's a very good name!" Fred shouted over the wind. "I'm naming mine, BLOODY HELL!" A loud cry escaped him as the Romanian Longhorn he was riding mimicked the Fireball's actions. He looked to his brother, a broad grin on his face. "Merlin I'm glad Ron found Harry on the Express or I'd never be able to do this." He pulled his dragon's reigns and sent the beast into a spin.

Ron urged his own Romanian Longhorn to fly alongside his brothers. "Would you two get serious? We're on a mission, in case you've forgotten!"

"Did you hear that Fred?" George asked, holding a hand up to his ear. "I think Granger may have hitched a ride on Ron's dragon!"

"It sure does sound that way!" Fred agreed.

Ron just shook his head and urged his dragon to go faster. The beast's large wings easily cut through the sky until he was neck and neck with Harry.

"How's Norbert treating you?" He questioned as he eyed the Norwegian Ridgeback.

Harry patted the dragon's black scales. "I know it sounds mental but I think he remembers me and he blows fire every time I mention H-A-G-R-I-D."

Ron gave him a confused look. "You mean Hagrid?" As soon as the name left Ron's lips the Ridgeback gave an agitated grunt and blew out a large stream of fire.

"See what I mean?"

"We're getting close!" Owens yelled from where he flew above them. "We'll have to do some scanning spells to find the wards." He pulled his dragon's reigns until the beast hovered in the air and then he pulled out his staff.

Harry shook his head and motioned for him to wait. "No need," he stated, voice cracking slightly. "I can see them." And he could, as amazing and unbelievable as it was, he could actually see the wards. They appeared as a series of bright red domes, thick red domes, about twenty piled upon each other. "And they are thick," he added, "I don't know if I can do this."

Owens and Ron merely stared at him.

"I'm guessing that seeing wards isn't a normal wizard thing," he continued mournfully and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Only you, Harry Potter, would be able to do something so amazing and sound horrified by it."

But Harry wasn't horrified. He didn't have time to be. Because he could see beyond the wards, to the ground below and what he saw caused his blood to boil. There was a camp full of muggle-borns and they looked to be fighting for their lives.

"I see them," he stated aloud, his grip on his wand tightening, "I see the battle. There must be hundreds upon hundreds of muggle-borns down there and nearly as many Death Eaters."

Charlie shared a nervous look with Ron. "Perhaps we should come up with a plan," he suggested.

Ron shook his head. "No time to waste. We need to move now."

"Ron's right," agreed Harry, "Those people need our help." He looked down at his wand and then the wards. "I can do this," he whispered softly.

There was something inside him aching to be released. A monster containing all of Harry's hope and love for the world. It was a dangerous thing and Harry feared it, but at the same time he knew that it was needed. People were in danger and he could save them. No, he would save them. With a simple wave of his wand the wards fell, releasing a mighty wind.

"Save as many as you can!" Harry commanded and his dragon army began a quick descent.

**DSz**

A loud roar caught Kingsley's attention and his heart sank. The Death Eaters had brought in dragons. Now he and the muggle-borns were surely doomed.

"Kingsley, look!" Narcissa cried while pointing toward the dark clouds.

Kingsley turned slowly, a feeling of dread washing through him. The clouds parted and a small contingent of dragons dove through the opening. Each dragon had a figure on its back, but until they flew closer Kingsley couldn't make them out.

"Are those Death Eaters?" Narcissa asked. "They don't look like it."

Basile gasped. "Those men, their uniforms…" A wide grin split his features. "I recognize those uniforms. They are American army men."

"I don't believe it," Kingsley whispered. The dragons dropped lower and lower and Kingsley noticed everyone had fallen silent. Then a terrifying scream echoed through the assembled Death Eaters.

"It's Potter!"

"It's Harry Potter," Narcissa gasped.

"And there's Ron Weasley," Kingsley exclaimed with tears in his eyes, "Flying on that dragon there. And Fred and George! I'd recognize those redheads anywhere. It's impossible!"

It was impossible, but there was Harry Potter, saving them all from atop the back of a dragon. It was the type of story Kingsley would imagine hearing from a drunk, not the type he'd ever thought he'd be able to tell someday. Potter and his army landed in an open area toward the middle of the camp and Kingsley wasted no time in getting to them.

"Harry Potter!" He greeted happily. "Merlin's beard am I glad to see you!"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt?" The teen questioned uncertainly before smiling widely. "You're supposed to be dead."

Kingsley's grin widened. "I think I was dead for awhile, but I feel alive now, very much so in fact."

Ron dropped off his dragon and clapped Kingsley on the shoulder. "Let's keep you that way then," he stated, holding out a chewing gum wrapper. "I think you've done enough here."

It was a Portkey and Kingsley barely glanced at it before pushing Ron's hand away. "I've got some work to do here first, but if you've got more of those I'd be glad to hand them out. You can start with my friend Basile here." He pulled Basile forward and urged him to take the wrapper.

The Frenchman paused before accepting it, taking a moment to watch the military men jumping into action all around. His eyes were bright, but hard, as he looked up at the dark-skinned man. Basile stuck out his hand and Kingsley shook it forcefully.

"I will see you again, yes?" Basile stated sternly.

Kingsley nodded. "Eventually we all meet again," he replied, "one way or the other."

Basile opened his mouth and Kingsley thought he would argue, but instead he merely tilted his head to one side and gave the man one last smile.

The Death Eaters had initially scattered when the contingent of dragons dropped through the sky, but they were quickly gathering their wits. Harry dropped from his dragon and handed Kingsley a bag full of gum wrappers.

"Get them to as many muggle-borns as you can," Harry urged.

Kingsley eyed the bag. "What if there's not enough?"

Potter's eyes turned cold. "We'll save as many as we can with the portkeys and the rest will have to escape on the dragons."

"There are a lot of muggle-borns here," Kingsley explained. "I don't know if that will be enough."

"Well it will have to be," stated Harry. "As soon as we've cleared as many as we can, I'm destroying this place and everyone in it."

Kingsley couldn't believe what he was hearing. The boy sounded as if he had no trouble sacrificing innocent people. It was so unlike the Potter that he remembered. He looked to Ron and the redhead merely shrugged.

"Let's go," Ron urged, moving away from the group with his wand drawn. "We've got people to save."

The battle continued, less one-sided then before, but still not ideal in Kingsley's eyes. He shoved gum wrappers into as many innocent hands as he could get to, spelling Death Eaters as he went. Narcissa ran into them in the midst of the battle and he had to hold back Weasley from sending a curse her way.

"She's on our side," he explained. "She's the one who brought me the wand."

Ron didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Of course," she replied airily. "I don't suppose you can tell me if my son is still alive." Her expression changed instantly from uncaring and aloof, to desperate and aching.

"Don't worry, the ferrets safe," Ron replied, his tone seeming more affectionate then snide. "Did you think we'd kill him or something?"

"It was Potter I was worried about. I know how much he cared for Dumbledore."

Ron's eyes grew dark. "You don't know anything about it," he ground out angrily. "And you don't know anything about Harry. Besides, it's not really Draco that he blames for that, it's Snape, the greasy git."

"But Severus was the one who helped me to save Draco," she argued. "How do you know he's not just a victim of circumstance?"

Something that sounded much like a snarl passed over the youngest Weasley boy's lips and in a flash he had his wand at Narcissa's throat. "Don't you ever defend that overgrown bat to me or to Harry, especially not to Harry! He may blow you to bits without meaning to if he hears you talking like that."

A bright red spell shot past Ron's ear, bringing him back to the here and now.

"In case you two have forgotten," Fred shouted as he ran past.

"We're in the middle of a fight here," George added as he followed his twin.

Ron grunted and removed his wand from beneath Narcissa's chin. "If you want to keep a pet Death Eater, then I expect you to keep her out of trouble," he directed at Kingsley, choosing to ignore the blonde witch. Then he stomped away, firing off curses in his wake.

Narcissa let out the lungful of air that she'd been holding.

"Come on," Kingsley urged, handing her a handful of gum wrappers. "Hand them to as many as you can. You'll need to tap them with your wand to activate the portkey."

"One of the Americans already gave me some," she stated, holding out a small collection of her own. "I can't get any of the gypsies to take them though. They won't leave until the rest of the muggle-borns have all been rescued."

Kingsley huffed in frustration. "I'll take care of it," he replied, spying Harry battling a group of masked figures over by a set of cages.

The Boy-Who-Lived didn't seem to be a boy any longer if the way he was fighting was any indication. Still it seemed that Potter was holding back somewhat and sticking to very weak curses and charms. Kingsley kept watching as he made his way toward the teen. Harry cast a Jelly-Legs at one of the Death Eaters and the man went down howling in pain, his legs lying useless in front of him since the curse removed all of his bones.

Harry grimaced, but didn't let up, downing three more Death Eaters with the same curse.

"That's quite a Jelly-Legs you've got there," Kingsley stated.

Harry shrugged. "I've been having some trouble with my spell power lately, but I haven't had time to work it out."

"I suppose not."

A cold chill ran down Kingsley's back and a look of horror appeared on Potter's face.

"Dementors," he whispered, warm breath turning to steam.

"One of the Death Eaters must have made it to the building they're kept in and let the damned things loose." Kingsley frowned. "We've got to get the rest of the muggle-borns out of here. They're no match for Dementors. They can't even see them for Merlin's sake!"

Harry nodded in agreement. "Have you handed out your portkeys?"

"Not all of them. The gypsies won't take them until they're sure all of the rest of the muggle-borns have been saved."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "What should we do?"

"You're asking me?" Kingsley questioned in surprise. He rubbed his baldhead as he tried to come up with a plan. "Perhaps you should order them to leave. They'll probably listen to you."

"Me, why me?"

"Because you're Harry Potter!" He gave the boy an exasperated look. "In case you haven't noticed that holds some weight in the world." The boy still gave him a confused look and he growled in frustration. "How many wizards did you bring with you?"

"Thirty," stated Potter.

Kingsley rubbed the thick beard that had grown on his chin. "I've heard you can cast a corporeal Patronus, is that true?" The teen nodded. "Have every one of your men and women grab at least two muggle-borns and portkey them to safety. We'll stay here and hold off the Dementors until they're gone."

"Then what?"

"Then we hop one of those dragons out of here."

Suddenly Potter's wand was up and pointing to something beyond Kingsley's right shoulder. "Malfoy," he hissed and for a moment Kingsley thought he'd said it in Parseltongue.

"She's with me," Kingsley explained quickly. "She's the one who helped plan this escape." He gave the boy a stern look. "I won't have her hurt over old grudges."

To his surprise, Potter lowered his wand and tilted his head slightly which Kingsley assumed was a nod of agreement.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Narcissa blurted out quickly in a tone that almost sounded too sincere to be coming from the lips of a Malfoy.

"Thank Kingsley," Potter stated coldly. "If it wasn't for him, then you'd be dead right now."

"If it wasn't for her, then I would be dead right now!" Kingsley nearly shouted. "Now we don't have time for this. You let the Americans know the plan and I'll fill in the Aurors and the Weasleys."

"Ron won't go without me," Harry said assuredly. "Even if I order him to."

Kingsley grinned. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

They separated and fought their way through the blood and battles. Dementors surrounded them and it was difficult to keep that will to survive burning brightly inside their hearts. Kingsley had to remember the hope he'd felt when he'd been in that cell, the hope that had kept him going day and night. Memories flitted through his mind and he could feel the Dementors attempting to pull them away, but he wouldn't let the bastards take them easily.

"Remember Draco," he urged Narcissa when he noticed her face appeared even paler than usual. "Remember that Draco is waiting out there for you and even if you can't keep going for yourself, keep going for him. A boy needs his mum."

"You sound like you speak from experience," she quipped.

Kingsley nodded. "We all do," he replied, "There's not a man alive who wouldn't give all for his mother." Their eyes were drawn to Harry Potter as he barreled down another group of Death Eaters with a spell that would probably make ol' Dumbledore cringe if he saw what the boy was up to.

"He's much more powerful then I remember," commented Narcissa.

"That he is," Kingsley agreed. "One thing I've noticed in my years as an Auror, when a person has even less to lose, they'll do even more to protect it."

**DSz**

Draco had to physically restrain Ginny from jumping out the window. Clutched in her hand was an old broom she'd found in the bathroom. It wasn't a magical broom so he had no idea what the witch was thinking, but he learned quickly that it was useless to argue logic with an angry woman.

"Let me go or I'll hex you," the redhead shouted, "I mean it Draco. I don't care if you are a muggle!"

He shook his head. "I gave Potter my word that I'd look after you."

Ginny scoffed at that. "Why would I need a muggle to look after me? You don't even have any magic Malfoy, you're useless."

"And I'm a prat, and a git, and a snotty, stuck-up magicless mudblood." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Do you want to add a few more to the list? Slimy, little cockroach perhaps?"

Her lips pulled back in a feral grin. "How about ferret? Do you like that one ferret?"

"Say what you want, but I'm not letting go. I know you won't hex me; you're too much of a Gryffindor. Besides, what would the Boy Wonder say?"

He knew he'd gotten to her with that one. She sighed and reluctantly dropped the broom to the floor. She cast a worried glance toward the window before stalking across the room and stopping before the door.

"I'm leaving Malfoy," Ginny stated assuredly. "You can either come with me, or stay here. Actually, it would probably be better if you did stay here. No offence or anything, but without magic you'd only slow me down."

"Are you mad?" Draco questioned as he hurried across the room. He squeezed himself between her and the door, placing one hand over the knob. "Do you know how much danger you'd be in if you went back? Voldemort would love to get his hands on you." He noticed she flinched slightly when he said the Dark Lord's name.

"I don't care," she ground out, "Harry needs my help." She reached for the doorknob, but Draco gently pushed her hand away.

"No he doesn't," he said softly. "He doesn't need your help and that's what's killing you, isn't it?"

Ginny's hands clenched into tight fists. "That's not it at all, and of course he needs me." The fire was gone from her voice, her tone turning despondent and sad.

A loud noise in the hallway caused them both to start and Draco could feel something hit the other side of the door with a heavy thud. His mind switched to high alert almost immediately and he kicked himself for becoming so comfortable with his current situation. His father had always warned him about how far the power of the Dark Lord was spread throughout the world. Why had he thought that he'd be safe here in America?

"Put up a silencing spell," he whispered to Ginny. She gave him a confused look, but did as he asked. "There's someone in the hall and we need to see who it is."

"I don't know any spells to see through doors."

"I do," Draco assured. "The incantation is 'Graldnesteszer'. Tap the door in all four corner while you say it."

"I've never heard of that spell before." She looked at him with uncertainty in her eyes. "It's sure funny sounding."

"It's dwarvish," he explained, "Dwarf magic can charm anything hand-crafted, even if its been spelled with wizard magic."

She still looked uncertain, but followed his directions anyway. "Graldnesteszer," she intoned and tapped the four corners of the door.

Draco could feel the power behind the word and it made his soul ache. Ginny must have noticed his distress because she immediately gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry."

Draco shook his head. "Don't be. It's no more than I deserve."

"No one deserves…"

"The spell didn't work," he interrupted, steering the subject away from the uncomfortable subject. "Try again."

It took three more tries before the spell sprang to life and a red glowing square appeared in the middle of the door. Ginny gasped softly and dropped her wand. Pure instinct allowed Draco to catch it before it hit the floor. He pressed it into Ginny's palm and closed her hand around it tightly.

"You're going to need this," he stammered fearfully.

In the hall stood Bellatrix Lestrange in all her insane glory. Draco could tell she was scanning the door for any hidden alarms or traps. She appeared extremely paranoid and Draco was sure the Dark Lord had warned her that he wouldn't come for her if she were caught.

"She'll be busy for a bit," Draco explained, "She knows we're in here, but she's scared that it could be a trap. Thank Merlin for her time in Azkaban or I don't think she'd be half as paranoid."

"What do we do now?" Ginny asked as she worriedly fingered her wand.

Draco shrugged. "You're the one with the magic, remember? What did you say earlier? O yes, I'm useless." He glared down at her menacingly. "Why don't you wave that wand around and save us, since you're so powerful? Didn't you say you want to help Harry?" He was sure that the witch would crumple under his harsh words, but instead they had the opposite effect. Gryffindors, he thought with a sigh, always so confusing.

"You're right." Ginny's fire was back. "But I can't take Lestrange on by myself, I'm not that powerful. We need a plan."

"Well, I am good at planning." Draco stated with a grin, but the Weaslette wasn't paying attention to him, instead she was eyeing the old broom that she'd tried to use earlier in her bid for freedom.

"What do you know about charming brooms?" She asked with a slanted look.

"Not enough." To Draco's horror she merely shrugged at his honest answer.

"It'll have to do." She lifted the broom and laid it on the table.

"Are you mad?" He questioned, his voice raising a pitch or two.

"C'mon Draco, time to learn what really means to be a Gryffindor."


	34. A Time to Hide

"_**Cunning is a short blanket - if you pull it over your face, you expose your feet"**_

The grubby, little gypsy girl glared up at Severus with hardened, black eyes. A large rock was gripped tightly in her small hand. Severus suspected the child was no older than eight, no younger than 6, but had no way to know for certain. He raised his wand at the girl and in turn she raised the rock.

Sounds of battle echoed through the empty alley and he wondered why he'd bothered to chase this girl. He'd never taken any pleasure in killing muggles, so why would he desire to kill a magicless, muggle-born child?

"What is your name?" He questioned from behind his mask.

The girl had the nerve to spit at his feet. "Xari Moarte," the child hissed and Severus unconsciously took a step back.

He'd heard those words before, a very, very long time ago. An accusation by his father, as Severus had stumbled into his home after taking the mark.

"O Zhuvindo will destroy your master and curse you, gadjo!"

"O Zhuvindo?" Severus asked in confusion.

The girl stood straighter. "O Zhuvindo is a hero to the Roma people!"

Severus grimaced behind his mask. Just what Harry Potter needs, one more title behind his name, one more title for the masses to shout when they call for Potter to save them. Severus tried to recall what the word means, but his knowledge of the gypsy language was minimal, though he did remember one important phrase.

"Na daran Romale vi ame sam Rom chache." He said the words as clearly as he could and watched in amusement as the child's eyes became large as saucers.

"It cannot be!" The girl exclaimed. "I am Millie. What is your name?"

"I dare not tell you," Severus stated and Millie's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "It wouldn't be safe for either of us."

The girl's eyes were alight with mischief. "You are a very clever Rom," she stated with a catlike grin, "To play such tricks."

Severus could tell the child had figured out the fact that he was a spy among the Dark Lord's followers. He wasn't surprised the girl wouldn't speak the words aloud. Tobias had spouted many old sayings about keeping your tongue in your mouth and your thoughts in your head. No one can hear the words you don't speak; the old bastard would spout between drinks from his whiskey bottle.

"Take this." He shoved a portkey into the girl's grimy hand. "It will take you to Hogwarts."

"The castle?!" The girl exclaimed, staring at the gum wrapper as if it were made of gold. "How I've always longed to see it!"

"And I have a message to give you as well," Severus stated quietly. "Tell O Zhuvindo that one is in the castle."

Millie looked confused, but was wise enough not to ask for an explanation. She merely nodded and offered Snape a toothy smile.

"Nais tuke," the child said solemnly.

Severus merely nodded, expecting that the phrase was the equivalent of a 'thank you'. He tapped the girl's head with his wand and a second later he stood alone in the alley. With a sigh he collapsed against the wood wall of the building next to him and stood silent, staring at the dark sky through the holes in his mask. The little gypsy had him completely unnerved.

It was the way the girl had looked, he concluded. So much like his younger sister, the one that had been stolen away. Eileen had made many excuses for leaving Nadja at the orphanage. Nadja was small. Nadja was a squib. Nadja was another mouth to feed. She couldn't protect Nadja from their father and, unlike Severus; Nadja had no magic for protection.

Severus kicked the wall hard before pushing away and stumbling down the alley. Away from the sounds of battle and the cries of pain, his thoughts belonged to the past.

At Hogwarts, he'd dreamed of a future with his sister. It didn't matter that Nadja was a squib. Most potions didn't require magic to brew and one certainly didn't need magic to prepare ingredients. Severus had envisioned his life after graduation as a grand thing. He would brew and sell potions, his younger sister by his side. But that dream was lost when Severus visited the orphanage where his mother had left Nadja.

Nadja died of pneumonia the day after her fifth birthday, three months after she'd been left on the doorstep.

**DSz**

"Papa, Papa!" Millie shouted, winding his way through the large group of refugees.

"Millie?" A voice questioned tentatively.

The girl's small eyes lit up at the sight of her father standing in the middle of the grand hall with the magical ceiling. His face was gaunt and his large belly was gone, but his lips still turned up in a wide smile and his green eyes danced with happiness.

"My daughter!" He bellowed.

"Papa!"

The large group of refugees parted to allow the tiny girl through. Knowing smiles shown on all their faces as the girl jumped to be caught by her father. It was a small reprieve from the death and despair they'd been mired in for so many months.

**dSz**

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, but Dudley wasn't aware of that as his feet pounded across the hard pavement. His thoughts were on his father's glazed eyes, the dead flesh, and the green light, that horrible green light. It would stay in his nightmares for years, of this he was certain. To think that a little stick could be so powerful. Just thinking about the magic made his hair stand on end and his spine tingle.

Finally, after running for what seemed like miles, he ducked into a public library. A few people inside gave him strange looks as he swiftly walked toward the back of the building. Once he was far enough away from prying eyes, he leaned heavily against one of the bookshelves, taking deep breaths and holding his side.

But what to do now?

Immediately Harry's voice came into his head. His cousin had expected something like this to happen and he'd made Dudley repeat his instructions until they'd never be forgotten.

"If you see a bad wizard, don't try and fight them." Harry had been very insistent on this point. "Run away as fast as you can and blend into the muggle world. You've always lived as a muggle, so you know about hotels and muggle places like that. Take this muggle money."

Here Dudley had been very surprised to feel a large wad of cash shoved into his right palm. Then a bag of coins was shoved into his left.

"Keep the wizard money hidden. If you have to hide in the muggle world, never bring it out in front of anyone. If a wizard happens to see it, they'll get curious."

"Why?" Dudley had asked.

Harry had grinned and patted his shoulder. "You're about the most muggle looking bloke I've ever seen besides your Dad. Any wizard would think it odd that you'd have a whole bag full of galleons. Now, if you do have to run, make sure you run to a place with a lot of people, like a shopping center, or a busy street, something like that."

"But what will I do? How will I get back?"

And Harry had smiled one of those sad smiles that Dudley was getting very used to seeing.

"I'll come and find you," he assured.

"What if you wizards don't win? Then what?"

"Then it's best you don't come back."

Dudley peered around the library, making sure no one was around, before pulling out the bag of coins. As uncomfortable as it would be, he decided to hide them in his shoe. Then he looked through the muggle money, counting it out quickly and quietly.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, staring at the small fortune. Here he'd always thought Harry was poor. Where had he gotten so much money? Or perhaps a better question was, why hadn't he ever spent it while living at the Dursley's? He grimaced as he realized why Harry had never spent any of it, or teased Dudley with it. His cousin had been afraid the Dursley's would have taken it and spent it themselves.

Well, first things first, Dudley decided. He'd have to find a hotel and some food. The attack had come right around lunch and he'd barely been able to eat a bite of his sandwich. For a moment he considered trying to get in touch with Harry somehow, but then decided against that plan. Better to stay hidden. He had no way to help Harry; instead he'd probably just get in the way.

As he left the library, he was surprised to hear someone call his name.

"Dudley!" A feminine voice called out.

Immediately he was on his guard and turned to run.

"Stop," the voice rang out again, "It's me Ginny."

Dudley's eyes grew wide. Across the busy road stood Harry's girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, and next to her was that blonde boy that no one liked, Malloy, or something was his name.

"Ginny," Dudley cried out with relief, "You're okay. I thought everyone had been killed."

"Stay right there," the small girl ordered. "We're coming over." She eyed the cars passing fearfully.

"No," Dudley shouted, "I'll cross over. Meet down at the corner and I'll cross at the crosswalk."

He quickly made his way down the road and crossed after the light changed. The redheaded girl gave him a hug and he squeezed her hard.

"Are we glad to see you!" She exclaimed. "Draco and I don't know anything about…you know…" She waved her hand around.

Dudley smiled sadly. "My world," he said and she nodded.

"Where's your Dad?"

Dudley paled.

"O, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Dudley assured. "I don't have time to think on it now anyway. We need to find a place to hide out. Harry gave me a whole bunch of money, so we can get a hotel room."

"Room?" Questioned the blonde boy. "You expect me to share a room."

Ginny punched Draco in the arm. "Don't be a git. It's safer, and cheaper, if we all stay together. So should we find somewhere cheap and out of the way?"

Dudley shook his head. "No, we're going to stay somewhere nice. Somewhere like that." He pointed at one of the tall, elaborately decorated hotels, down the block.

"That's more like it." Draco clapped his hands together.

"Isn't that a waste of money?" Ginny questioned.

"I've got plenty of money. Plus, they'll have security there and there are more people. Harry said to stay at a place where there a lot of people."

"And good room service doesn't hurt either," quipped Draco, earning another punch, which he had the foresight to dodge.

Dudley nodded, but then noticed something odd behind Ginny's back. "What's the old broom for?"


	35. A Time for Life

"_Coward: One who, in a perilous emergency, thinks with his legs." – Ambrose Bierce_

A set of black robes went gliding across the room before settling into a dusty and worn brown travel bag. A set of identical robes settled atop the first. The bag closed with a snap. Severus scanned the room, his black, beady eyes looking for any clue anyone had ever resided in the small bedroom. Pleased with his handiwork, he pulled on a set of warm outer robes before making his way toward the door.

"Going somewhere?" A voice from behind caused him to pause in surprise. He stood completely still as a red-robed figure strolled into his peripheral line of vision.

"I've not worked as a spy for so long only to die," Severus replied in a level tone.

The other man laughed. "O Snape, you are such a coward. But where do you plan to go?"

Severus' grip tightened on his bag. He had no idea where he was going to go; only that it would be someplace far from here.

"You don't have anywhere to go, do you? Nowhere that he wouldn't be able to find you," the man snickered. "Unless you're planning on going to Hogwarts!"

"Shut up!" Snapped Severus. "Just shut up and get out of my way."

The red-robed man strode closer and closer until his face was mere inches away. Severus stared at the man's gaunt appearance and deadened eyes, before unconsciously turning away from the pathetic creature. The other man laughed in a way that caused chills to run the length of the Potion Master's spine.

"What about the potion?"

"It will be fine," Severus stated assuredly. "If everything goes as planned, I'll return for it once this is all over."

"And if things don't go as planned?"

"Then the potion is useless," he sneered. "Now, get out of my way."

A ghastly white hand reached out and grasped his shoulder. Severus fought his initial urge to jump away, choosing instead to show a bit more dignity and merely take a step back. Another evil chuckle echoed through the room.

"I know just the place for you," the red-robe figure snarled. "We'll go back home."

"What?" Severus questioned dumbly. "Spinner's End?"

The man shook his head. "No you idiot, my home."

"Are you insane?"

"Perhaps, but no one will look for you there."

Severus considered his options, which were very few. He could go on the run and hope to Merlin that the Potter brat killed the Dark Lord before Severus was tracked down, tortured and killed. The second option would be to hide out in the last place where he'd ever thought to return.

"I suppose it is the best plan," he grumbled.

"Let's go then, before the snake-faced bastard comes looking for you."

The white hand appeared again from beneath the blood red robes and this time Severus forced his nerves to settle. He still flinched at the feel of those cold digits. A second pale hand reached up to grip the necklace around the man's neck. With a sharp tug at the chain, the man disappeared, Severus in tow. A moment later they reappeared in a dark and dingy hallway.

Severus forcefully pulled his arm away from the robed figure and made his way down the hall.

"Welcome back to Number 12, Snape," the man sneered coldly, before disappearing into the shadows.

**dSz**

The Hospital Wing was deathly quiet as Petunia made her way to the private rooms in back. She knocked at one of the plain white doors and heard a gruff "Enter" in response. The room was dark, with one small candle flickering softly on the bedside table. The man on the bed had a pile of papers spread across his lap.

"Good evening Petunia," Rufus greeted her without looking up from his work. "What brings you by so late?"

Petunia's hands shook slightly as the door closed. As soon as she heard the soft click behind her, she fell into the chair beside the bed and began to weep. Big, ugly tears made their way down her face, flowing over wrinkles and worry lines. After what seemed to be an eternity of her near silent crying, the Minister finally spoke.

"What happened?" He looked at her questioningly and reached out a bandaged hand in her direction. She instantly reached out and grasped it, holding on for dear life.

"I've just been told," Petunia paused, attempting to collect her thoughts which seemed utterly impossible at the moment. "I've just been informed that Vernon has been killed."

Rufus did not gasp. His expression did not change to one of shock and confusion. Instead he merely nodded and waited for her to continue. Petunia felt as if he might wait for her all night and that feeling warmed her slightly.

"A Death Eater found where they were staying in America. She killed quite a few muggles and muggle-borns. They found Vernon's body, but Dudley is missing."

"Has there been any word from Voldemort?" He questioned. Petunia shook her head. "Well, that's good then. If he had captured the boy, then I've no doubt he'd use him to try and draw Potter out."

Petunia nodded. "I just can't believe it. He was supposed to be safe there, they both were. If I would have gone with them…if I wouldn't have remained here…"

The clock on the wall ticked loudly through the silence. They both knew what would have happened if Petunia would have left with the muggles and muggle-borns. She'd be dead right now, or held prisoner by Voldemort.

"I'm sorry about your husband," Rufus said in a solemn tone while patting her hand consolingly. "I'm sure he was a good man."

Petunia snorted at that. Vernon was a lot of things and a 'good man' wasn't one of them. But still, he was her husband and in the deepest depths of her soul, that still meant a great deal.

"Vernon wasn't what one would call good, but he did his best for Dudley and I. He certainly didn't deserve such a horrible end." Rufus nodded, motioning for her to continue. "It's my son I'm really worried about. He's never been on his own before."

"Have some faith in your boy," the Minister urged. "He may surprise you."

**dSz**

"Draco, get back here you prat!" Ginny shouted at the top of her lungs.

Dudley came running from the bedroom. "What's going on in here? I heard shouting." He looked around the room and noticed Draco hiding behind the sofa. "What in the world are you doing back there?"

A pale, white finger appeared. "She's crazy, that's what she is. All I did was make myself a sandwich and she went completely barmy."

Ginny pointed a delicate finger back at Draco. "He used all the mayo, all the cheese and he only left the bread crusts. You should see his sandwich, it's enormous!"

"Just order something from room service then, if you're hungry," sneered Draco.

Dudley shook his head at the two. They really were acting like children. Sometimes he wondered if they really understood the gravity of the situation the three of them had found themselves in. From the pout on Ginny's face and the smirk on Draco's, he guessed not.

"Draco, we can't keep ordering from room service," Dudley stated as calmly as possible, attempting to keep the nervousness out of his voice. Really, he was scared out of his mind. Their money would only last so long, and then what?

"Why not?" Draco questioned snottily.

"Because we only have so much money and when it's gone we don't have a way to get more. Then what will we do?"

Ginny bit her lip. "Do you think we should try to get back to England?" She questioned.

Dudley shook his head. "No. We can't help there and chances are, we'd just get caught on the way. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer not to be tortured."

"Well then, we'll just have to keep a sharp eye on our finances. That means no more room service, Ginny."

"What?" Ginny yelled angrily and a pillow went flying across the room and straight into Draco's face.

**dSz**

Harry stood at the window in the Headmaster's office, gazing down at the Quidditch pitch. A group of intrepid muggles and muggle-borns were currently trying their hand on planting crops. It appeared they'd enlisted the help of a few wizards to assist them in forcing the plants to grow faster. The food was definitely needed, and soon. Their current food supply was beginning to run low. Their victory at the muggle-born camp had increased the amount of muggle-borns by a great deal and there was no way to get them to America now that Hogwarts had been completely cut off from the outside world.

"She'll be okay," Ron stated assuredly as he came to stand next to his best friend. Harry tried to work up a smile for the redhead, but it came out as more of a grimace. "She's a Weasley, we can get out of everything."

Hermione stepped up at Harry's right and put an arm around his shoulders. "It's safer for her this way."

Harry nodded. "I know, I just hate not knowing."

His friends both nodded in understanding and then the three fell into silence. Harry rubbed his forehead, feeling a familiar ache in his scar. Voldemort was angry; he had been ever since the Death Eater attack in America. It was obvious that things hadn't gone as planned.

"I don't know what's going to happen next," Harry admitted aloud, "But I'm glad you two are here with me." He turned to them and offered them the best smile he could manage at the moment.

"O Harry," Hermione sighed, pulling him closer. "As if you could actually get rid of us if you wanted to. We'll always be right here next to you, no matter what the future may bring."

Ron nodded in agreement and put his arm over Hermione's arm on Harry's shoulder. "How hard could it be?" He questioned cockily. "We just need to get past Voldemort's Death Eaters, maybe defeat a few giants, werewolves and Dementors, and then kill the Dark Lord. Nothing to it, mate."

Harry and Hermione both laughed.

"We've already taken out a troll," Hermione continued.

"And a basilisk," added Harry.

"And a bunch of Dementors," Ron ticked off on his fingers.

Hermione smiled. "We traveled through time."

"I pretty much singlehandedly defeated a dragon," Harry stated pompously, tugging on the front of his robes in a manner reminiscent of Fudge.

"O, of course," Ron smirked. "And you swam with mermaids."

"Defeated ze Grindylows," Hermione added in her best French accent.

"Freed a house-elf," Ron suggested.

"Fought off about a thousand spiders." Harry laughed as he felt Ron shiver.

"Ugh, don't bring that up," Ron complained while ruffling Harry's already messy hair.

"Bested Lucius Malfoy," Hermione smirked.

"Ah yes," Ron sighed, "That was wicked."

The three looked at each other and began to chuckle, and then the chuckling turned to laughter. Harry held his side as he laughed louder and harder then he'd ever laughed in his life. Finally they settled down and Harry pulled his friends so close that they were nearly caught up in a three-way hug. The moment was silent and solemn, but then Ron, never one to be comfortable with long silences, had to open his mouth.

"I bet Voldemort never does this with Bellatrix and Snape." And then the laughter started all over again.

**THE END**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope you all enjoyed "The Last of Albus". I will begin writing the next story in the series soon.**


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